


In For It

by justheretoreadhannibalfics



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Like, M/M, Very Very Slow Burn, i'm sorry in advance, so slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 56,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18937249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretoreadhannibalfics/pseuds/justheretoreadhannibalfics
Summary: Based off this tumblr post https://the90swerentreal.tumblr.com/post/142375694960/one-time-in-high-school-i-was-waiting-to-talk-toIt was found by @AAT, and they gave me the url. So, thank you for that.Basically, Will and Hannibal met in high school, so they get to be friends before either of them gets involved with serial killery stuff.





	1. Different Directions

Hannibal straightened the papers in his folder as he approached the door to the principal’s office. He opened the door and made his way over to one of the plush armchairs.

  
There was a boy sitting in one of the other chairs, and Hannibal studied his wild curls. The boy had his head ducked toward his knees, that were tucked close to his chest, with his feet on the seat, curling his entire body in on itself.

  
When Hannibal sat down, The boy glanced up. He didn’t meet Hannibal’s eyes, but instead scanned his posture. Hannibal shuffled his feet slightly and loosened the knot of his tie around his neck. He was suddenly very aware of the difference in their dress.

  
The other boy was wearing a graphic T-shirt and jeans that seemed to have seen far to much wear to be comfortably worn. His sneakers were in a similar state, with frayed shoelaces tied in loose knots that would certainly drag on the floor when he walked.

  
The boy’s eye color seemed to shift and change with his thoughts, rather than the lighting as would be expected. He let his brow furrow at Hannibal’s much more formal attire.

  
“What are you in for?” he asked gruffly, seeming curious, but not really interested.

  
Hannibal raised his folder slightly.

  
“I’m getting permission to check out a few textbooks on Latin,” he explained, “since I’m not taking the class.”

  
Hannibal was painfully aware of his accent as he spoke. He hoped the boy across from him could understand him, as he had been teased before about it.

  
The boy nodded thoughtfully, as if he could have guessed it would be something like that.

  
“So, why are you here?” Hannibal asked in return.

  
The boy met his gaze now, giving him a mischievous grin.

  
“Stabbed another boy with a broken ruler,” he said without a hint of regret in his tone.

  
Hannibal paused only briefly before he nodded with consideration.

  
“We seem to lead very different lives,” he commented.

  
The boy laughed, and Hannibal found himself smiling despite himself. The sound was much more pleasant than he would have guessed from looking at the boy.

  
“I’m Will,” the boy said, not extending his hand in greeting as Hannibal was used to, “You got a name?”

  
Hannibal gave an amused smile before responding.

  
“Hannibal.”

  
This seemed to take Will by surprise for the first time during their conversation. He was frozen for a second as the information cemented. Then he laughed again.

  
“Certainly unexpected,” he noted, “But not the worst I’ve heard. You from Europe somewhere?”

  
Hannibal couldn’t help but keep smiling. This boy was much smarter than he let on.

  
“Lithuania,” he replied.

  
“How long you been here?”

  
“Not long, just before the school year began.”

  
Will nodded again.

  
“Just about the same for me, though I’m not as exotic as you. I move around a lot. ‘Suppose that’s why most people think I get in trouble.”

  
Hannibal tilted his head.

  
“You think differently,” He commented.

  
Will shrugged.

  
“People don’t tend to like me,” he said calmly, “and I don’t like them either. I tend to get into people’s heads.”

  
Hannibal considered this.

  
As he was about to speak again, the door to the principal’s office opened and two figures appeared. A boy with light brown hair that had too much product in it exited in front of the principal, who looked completely put out by their conversation.

  
The boy left and the principal’s eyes landed on Will.

  
“Mr. Graham,” he said sternly, “Come in.”

  
He then turned to Hannibal and his gaze softened slightly.

  
“My apologies, Hannibal. This should only take a moment.”

  
Hannibal nodded politely and Will gave him a humorous smile and wink as he entered the office.


	2. Pleasantries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal, shockingly, has more access to resources than Will.

Will stretched out under the tree and breathed deeply. His eyes were closed and he had an easy smile on his face. A slight breeze rustled his hair and cast a few curls over his relaxed brow.

Hannibal was sitting indignantly a the picnic table a few feet away. He much preffered eating in a classroom of one of his more intelligent teachers, as the weather didn’t typically care for his clothes as much as he did. He made the exception on this day because the weather was warm and dry enough that it wouldn’t be too much of a gamble. 

On top of that, Will always preferred the out of doors when it was an option. The skinny boy would have eaten in the rain if it meant he didn’t have to be surrounded by walls and people. This was the main reason Hannibal had agreed to it, as he enjoyed seeing Will relaxed whenever possible, and this was the best way to achieve that.

“Will you not eat?” Hannibal asked, eyeing the backpack on the bench next to him. It was much too flat to contain any proper food.

Will laughed easily and shook his head.

“No food in the cupboards,” he said, “no money for the machines, nothing for me to eat. Not even hungry anyways.”

Hannibal frowned. Will was getting much too skinny to be healthy.

Will sat up like a bolt of electricity had just shocked him when the sack hit his stomach. He furrowed his brow at Hannibal before he opened it.

“Really? Do you have a personal chef at home or something?” he asked, pulling the sandwich from the bag.

Hannibal smiled, though he felt a pang of sorrow, and almost guilt, for Will’s situation.

“I made it myself.”

Will nodded, as if he should have known. He then replace the food in the bag and handed it back to Hannibal.

“I can’t eat your food, Hannibal,” he said, “I’m not homeless.”

Hannibal scowled almost comically.

“I have more than enough food at home,” he countered, “And besides, I already ate half my lunch, and there is enough for you left over. Eat it. No excuses.”

Will returned the scowl and held Hannibal’s gaze as he opened the bag again. He seemed determined to keep Hannibal in his icy glare as he ate, but his resolve crumbled when he took a bite.

He looked down at the food as if it would bite him in return and quickly chewed and swallowed.

“Okay, there’s no way you made this yourself. You definitely have a personal chef. You just didn’t want me to be jealous.”

He spoke through a mouth full of food, eating ravenously. 

Hannibal remained silent, watching his friend eat with amusement. 

The bell rang and the two boys picked up to return to class. Will shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and tossed the bag into the trash as they entered the school.

“What class do you have again?” Hannibal asked, though he knew.

“Uh, English,” Will replied with a grimace, “I’m not too excited about it. You?”

Hannibal smiled.

“AP Literature,” he said, “One of my favorites.”

Will nodded, giving Hannibal a jealous glance.

“I wish we had more classes together,” he confessed, “I hate being around people.”

Hannibal knew Will meant anyone other than himself. Will had never said it aloud, but it was clear he enjoyed Hannibal’s company above all others. He hated being around other people.

“You could accompany me,” Hannibal offered jokingly, “I’m sure your teacher wouldn’t miss you much, and you would be good company.”

Will laughed bitterly.

“I’m not smart enough for AP classes. You know that.”

“I disagree,” Hannibal replied, not acknowledging the wondering look Will now sent toward him, “You are more intelligent than most of the students in this school. You just don’t get along with them, so no one notices. To be seen as smart, you need to have the intellect and also the social skill.”

Will shrugged.

“Well, I don’t have any social skills, so I guess I’m stuck with the masses.”

Hannibal smiled.

“But you would truly be welcome to join me,” he said as they stopped outside the door to his next class, “My teacher wouldn’t mind. He likes me.”

Will scoffed.

“Everyone likes you. No. I’ll go to my own class. I don’t think I’m very good company. Your teacher would probably like you less if you brought me.”

Hannibal frowned, but let Will walk away. He watched the dark curls that had grown a touch too long, as they bounced away down the hall. 

Someday, Will would know that he had value. Hannibal was going to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And he also knows how to prepare food, evidently. What a surprise.


	3. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visitor through the window at night? I'm a sucker for that kinda stuff.

The knock at Hannibal’s window woke him with a start. He had a quick rush of adrenaline before he put the pieces together and smiled. He opened the door and a wet Will fell through onto the floor. He shook his head like a dog and droplets of water sprayed off in a shimmer.

“Good evening, Will,” Hannibal said, retrieving a towel from the closet, “Though I’m sure you know I’m a bit surprised by your being here at this time of night.”

Will mussed his hair with the towel and chuffed lightly.

“We’re moving,” he stated.

Hannibal blinked.

“Oh. You and your father? When?”

Will bared his teeth, almost snarling.

“In a couple days. My dad never tells me until the last minute. I hate it. I hate that we move all the time.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. I will miss you. Do you know where you will be going?”

Will let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. His dark curls bounced and gleamed in the soft light.

“Like I said, My dad tells me nothing. It’s like he thinks it won’t affect me. Probably somewhere near the coast. He fixes boat motors, and all,” Will decided. His disdain for everything he was saying seeped through his words like blood through floorboards.

“I suppose you will have to write to me then,” Hannibal concluded, “After I receive your letter, I will have an address to write to, and you can inform me of when you move again. I don’t suppose you are likely to return here.”

Will looked at Hannibal with wonder in his eyes.

“We’re still gonna be friends?” he asked.

Hannibal chuckled.

“Of course, Will. I would be completely bored without you. Why on earth would something so trivial as a few state borders between us change that?”

Will nearly cried, and his eyes shone with bayed tears. He looked away, not able to meet Hannibal’s gaze. He blinked quickly and gave a wavering smile.

“I guess no one has ever cared before,” he said, “They always assumed I would move on, and so they didn't hesitate to do just that. I never kept friends between moves.”

Hannibal frowned. People had never understood exactly what kind of marvel Will was, and they let him go. Hannibal would not make that mistake.

“Will, listen to me,” Hannibal said, and Will snapped his head up to look at him, “If I were to end our friendship, I would be so alone in the world. Only you can really understand the way I think. It’s your gift.”

Will grimaced, but it hid his joy and faded into a smile quickly.

“You know, people don’t say stuff like that. Could be taken the wrong way, or something.”

Hannibal smiled.

“But you know how I think, so you know what I mean. I only care about what you think, and you are my only audience,” he said calmly.

Will laughed now, clear and genuine. He nodded along with his laughter and toweled off his arms as he went.

“I guess you’re right. I guess so.”

Hannibal once again couldn’t hide his grin at the perfect sound of Will’s laugh.

 

“Will, it’s not raining. How did you get so wet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (he ran through some sprinklers, in case anyone was wondering)


	4. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is a cinnamon roll child. This chapter kind of got away from me.

‘ _My Dear Will,_

 

_ I am completely and utterly bored with this city. I imagine your life is much more exciting than my own. You get to meet new people and see new sights, while I am stuck here with the stunningly average. I almost wish a murder would happen here. At least that way, something interesting would be going on. _

_ In reply to your last letter, I did indeed finish my graduation requirements, but I’m still attending the High School for my senior year. I like being able to take the more creative classes without the restraints of being obligated to do well due to it being university. On the bright side, I will be able to enter university with an associates, and not have to bother taking all the trivial general classes. _

_ You should know, our dear friend Fred has been making quite a fuss over himself this last month. He is now the president of the debate club, though his skills are quite woeful, and one of the class counsel. He thinks himself to be the object of much admiration, though I think he is more likely the subject of too many a cruel joke. I find him rather amusing, in the same way watching a duck getting its head stuck in a bucket is. _

_ I do hope you are staying out of too much trouble. I know you can’t help but prod at the larger and more dangerous people, but I don’t want you to be injured. I can’t imagine how alone you must feel, being by yourself among so many average people, without even the comfort of being able to watch Fred make a fool of himself. Even the little solace I find in it must be more than what you have.  _

_ I wish every day that you had your own phone. It would be so much easier and better for both of us if we could communicate directly, rather than having to wait so long between letters. Perhaps after you graduate and get a better paying job, you can purchase your own. I would kill someone to be able to have an actual conversation with you right now. _

_ Do you still plan on joining the police when you get the chance? I think you must be so much braver than myself. I only consider much safer options. Psychology is still one of my passions, but I think I might become a surgeon. We will have to see.  _

_ Yours, _

_Hannibal Lecter_ ’

 

Will laughed out loud at the words in the letter. Hannibal sure had a sense of humor. He always said that Will was so smart, and superior to his other company. Will thought it was highly amusing. 

Hannibal also used such formal language in his letter, and his handwriting was immaculate. The letter was written on some high quality stationary as well. From anyone else, Will would have felt self conscious about his own words and handwriting, but Hannibal could always make him feel at ease.

He sat under the overhang of the post office to write his response. The words were scribbled and hurried on a plain piece of printer paper, but he wanted to get back to Hannibal as quickly as possible. They were about to move again, and he didn’t want one of Hannibal’s letters to get lost.

 

‘ _Hannibal,_

 

_Yeah, I still think I’ll go for police, though my violent history could be an obstacle. I’m not doing it out of bravery, though. Maybe it’s because I think it would be fun to have a gun. Just kidding. I don’t know exactly why. I think my weird ability might be useful there, but it might not be. I’m sure you will do perfectly at whatever you decide to do. You were always the smarter one._

_I don’t even know if I will be able to graduate officially, even though I have technically taken all of the class materials at least three times over. The schools never seem to be able to get my records._

_Fred was always an idiot. I can imagine him being so pompous. It brings me a bit of amusement in this gray town to think of him being so spectacularly stupid._

_You don’t have to worry too much about me. I’ve learned to keep my head down and I mostly keep to myself. I don’t need friends, or for people to like me. I just need to get out ot this town and to the next one. Speaking of which, we’re moving again in a couple days, so by the time you get this we will have moved. I’ll send you another letter once we get there so you can get the address._

_You and me both wish I had a phone. Some of the teachers here make it hard to even pass their class without one, which I find pretty rude. Anyways, I’ll try to get one as soon as I can, but it will probably be a while. I can’t get a steady job when I keep moving. In the meantime, killing people is probably discouraged, and wouldn’t make me able to call you any sooner. I imagine your accent has mellowed out a bit since we last spoke, so I might not even recognize your voice if we could talk._

_I’ll write again in a couple days._

_Will_ ’

 

Will grimaced at his own handwriting and disorganized thoughts, but he stuck the letter into an envelope, scrawled Hannibal’s name and address on it, and slid it into one of the mail slots.

Will thought bitterly that he would be made fun of if someone from school knew he wrote to someone. It was a bit of a strange arrangement. The only reason he didn’t worry about being seen doing it, was that no one ever seemed to notice him, wherever he was, so they hadn’t bothered to pick on him. His isolation paid off in that respect, he supposed.

He walked back to the so called ‘house’ that he lived in with his dad. It wasn’t the worst he had ever had to endure, but he knew it was still on the worse end of the scale. 

He lifted the door by the handle and pushed it inward. There was a faint click as the door unlatched and swung open. He would have been worried about security, if they had anything worth stealing. 

Checking the cupboards, Will was met with almost nothing. There was a can of stewed tomatoes and a box of some sort of pasta that he didn’t care to make. His dad hadn’t been home that day. He could tell because he usually moved the food around in the cupboards a bit, to give the feeling of having more food than they did. The box and the can were in the same place as they had been that morning.

Will sighed and retreated to his room. He changed into his only other pair of shoes, a pair of work boots that had been his fathers at some point. He rolled up his sleeves and put a baseball cap on. 

Looking in the mirror in the bathroom, Will figured this was the best he could do, and he left the house once again. He walked down the street to a run down cafe on the corner.

When Will walked in, the owner shouted a greeting from behind the counter. There were two other people in the cafe, but they paid him no mind.

Will slid up to the counter and smiled nervously at the owner.

“Hey, Mr. Jordan,” he said, “Got anything needing fixing? Or know of anything I can do for a few bucks?”

The man gave Will a sympathetic smile before beckoning him back behind the counter. He showed Will to a kitchen mixer that had stopped working that morning.

“Know how to fix it?” he asked.

Will just nodded. He didn’t know how, but he would soon enough. He was pretty good at figuring it out.

Mr. Jordan showed Will where the tools were and left him to it.

Will opened it up and made a mental note of where all the pieces were. He then removed them one by one, inspecting each in turn.

Fifteen minutes later, Will walked back to the front of the store to report to Mr. Jordan.

“This gear needs replacing, Sir,” he said, showing the stripped gear to the older man, “And there’s a belt that’ll give soon if it’s not changed. You have the parts, or do you need to get them?”

Mr. Jordan beamed at Will.

“Thanks, son. I think we have some spare parts in the cupboard above where the mixer belongs. If we don’t have what you need, just let me know and I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

Will bobbed his head in thanks and returned to the back. He checked the cupboard and found the pieces he needed.

He talked to himself a bit as he put all the pieces back inside the mixer.

“I bet Hannibal would just have his parents order a new mixer all together,” he said under his breath, “They wouldn’t need to fix up an old one. Lucky for me, not everyone does that sort of thing. I’d be even more broke if they did.”

_ Hannibal would make a good surgeon. His hands have always been steady and his focus never broken. He could do whatever he wants. I’m probably gonna be stuck being a handyman for all my life, and he’ll forget all about me. He deserves better friends than me anyways. Ah, there we go. That should do it. _

Will plugged the mixer back in and switched it on. It ran smoothly, even making less noise than it had used to, probably due to the fact that Will had oiled all the parts while reassembling it.

Will rinsed off his hands, unable to completely remove the dark grease stains, and walked back to the front.

“That should do it, Sir,” Will said, “But I think you should have it oiled more often, to keep it from ruining the parts so quickly.”

Mr. Jordan beamed at Will as if he were his own son, and he was proud of him. He handed Will a plate that seemed to have some angel food cake and a few strawberries and whipped cream with it. 

“Thanks a million,” he said, “I’ll get you some cash in a minute. Go enjoy this and relax for a bit. You want anything to drink?”

Will shook his head, feeling guilty enough for letting himself accept the food, but his stomach hadn’t let him reject it.

Will sat at the counter and ate the cake. It tasted heavenly, and Will had a hard time eating it in a way that didn’t make it obvious that he was famished. Everything about the food was perfect. The cake was sweet and fluffy, and the strawberries were just the right level of sour to pair with the cream. He hadn’t eaten anything so good since he had moved away from the town Hannibal lived in.

Mr. Jordan returned with a wad of cash and handed it to Will. Will flipped through it and scowled.

“No, Sir,” he said, “It was a twenty dollar job, at most. I can’t take all this.”

Will tried to hand half of the money back, but the older man refused.

“The repair would have been,” he said, “But you also oiled all the parts. It works better than it ever has. That’s why you get forty. I would have had to pay for the repair and the oiling separately if it weren’t for you. I’m mighty thankful to you.”

Will again tried to protest, but the man was more stubborn than him, and they both knew Will could use the money. 

In the end, Will walked out of the cafe with a full belly and a wad of cash in his pocket. He walked to a nearby gas station and looked for some food.

He needed to get stuff that would save, hence the gas station. Everything in a gas station was prepared to wait until its purchase, be that a day or a month after it’s put on the shelf.

Will grabbed some trail mix, a couple packs of beef jerky, and a pack of cookies for himself as a treat. 

Near the checkout, there was a display of keychains that caught Will’s eye. The one he liked the best was made of good quality metal, and it was a figure of a trout. The body was curved in an imitation of motion, and the metal had been tinted slightly green along the back. 

Instantly, Will thought of sending it to Hannibal. 

He shook his head at himself. Hannibal was much too refined for cheap things like this. He would probably laugh and toss it in a drawer somewhere, forgetting about it and Will at the same time. It didn’t match who Hannibal was at all.

Yet, Will wanted to send it to him. Maybe as a show of friendship, or of thanks, or something else. He scrunched his nose and pulled it off the rack.

If nothing else, he could just keep it himself.


	5. Exchanges

Will dropped his duffel bag onto the cot, letting his mind linger on the thump it created. 

The condition of this house was better than the last one, but it didn’t have a bed for him. He wasn’t sure if he even cared. He was almost old enough to live on his own, which he might do. He wasn’t sure if he would fare better on his own than he did with his father, but he knew it was a looming option.

Will put his hand in his pocket and rubbed his thumb along the keychain. He once again felt stupid for buying it. Hannibal would hate it, he was sure. 

Something in his mind kept reminding him that Hannibal had never made him feel like he had done anything wrong. Hannibal was completely accepting when it came to Will, so he would likely accept the gift like everything else.

But still his doubts swirled in his skull, making him fear another rejection. He didn’t want to lose his only friend.

A day later, as he stood in front of the new post office, Will steeled himself.

“You know what?” he said to himself, “I don’t even care.”

He put the keychain into the envelope with the letter and sealed it. He pushed it into a slot and walked away, back toward home.

If Hannibal decided to forget Will, at least it would be over. Will just needed to stop letting himself worry about it.

\---

The little box that arrived for him caught Will completely by surprise. Hannibal had never sent him anything other than their usual letters. He opened it curiously, seated comfortably on his cot with his back against the wall. He hadn’t bothered to take his shoes off, as his cot was dirty enough it didn’t make a difference.

Inside was a keychain, nestled in some packaging. It was a little metal brain, and it made Will laugh aloud.

Hannibal had a weird sense of humor.

The letter was tucked underneath the trinket, and Will cradled the gift in the palm of his hand while he read.

 

‘ _ My Dear Will, _

 

_ Thank you for the keychain. I know it has great significance for you. As you sent me something that you value, I thought I would return the favor. Though I think I should explain it a bit. _

_ I value the mind in general, but this bobble in particular had very little significance up until you came to possess it, as I admire your mind over all others.  _

_ This may seem a bit out of character for me to be saying, and perhaps a bit cheesy, but it is true nonetheless.  _

_ I do hope you like it as much as I like your gift to me.  _

_ As for your previous letter, once you have begun university, whether or not you graduated will not matter, so do not worry yourself too much on that point. I’m glad to hear you have been staying out of too much trouble, though you really should try to make some friends, even if they are only temporary.  _

_ My accent has absolutely not mellowed out at all. I still sound as if I hardly know how to speak english, and have only just learnt. I’m sure you would be able to distinguish my voice from any other as easily as ever.  _

_ I do hope we can talk again someday soon. In the meantime, be safe and well. _

_ Yours, _

_ Hannibal Lecter _ ’

 

Will smiled. He knew his face was probably red from embarrassment at just reading Hannibal’s words. The guy really knew how to make him feel both uncomfortable and completely happy at the same time. 

Will clipped the keychain to the ring that held the key to their current place. It made him smile just to look at it. It was as if, of everything in the world, he owned this one thing. 

Hearing heavy footsteps, Will stuffed the keychain into his pocket and hid the box under a blanket that was crumpled at the foot of the cot. He held the letter up and let his eyes fall into a rhythm that mimicked reading.

His father appeared in the doorway, and Will glanced up briefly to acknowledge him before returning to the letter.

His father didn’t seem drunk, which was probably good, but he leaned heavily on the doorframe. He had probably just gotten home from work and was tired.

“What you got?” his gruff voice asked.

Will tilted the paper up, his eyes now on the wall next to him.

“Letter from Hannibal,” he stated, trying to make it sound unimportant.

“He still writes to you?” His dad asked, as if that was nearly unthinkable.

Will shrugged, and let the letter dangle loosely from his fingers.

“From time to time.”

His dad grunted from the doorway, almost in disapproval, but more like he was surprised. He shifted his weight so he was standing independently before he spoke again.

“You doing well in school?” he asked.

Will shot him a sideways glance. It wasn’t usual for his dad to care about how he was doing. He shrugged again.

“Yeah. My english class was in the middle of Pride and Prejudice when we got here. Lucky I already read it.”

His dad nodded jerkily. He turned and walked away, seemingly satisfied that he had fulfilled his fatherly duties for the day.

Will sighed and plucked his backpack off the ground next to him. The straps had been almost completely replaced by duct tape now, but the main compartment had held up for the most part through the years. 

He slid his fingers in between the back two panels of fabric and added the latest letter to his collection. His dad would beat him senseless if he knew how many letters he had received from Hannibal. He would accuse Will of being homo and probably try to send him to some sort of conversion camp. 

That was one thing that irked Will. His dad never had money to take care of him, unless Will had done something that he deemed unacceptable. Then there were funds to his ears for punishment methods.

Will pulled out his math folder and took out the most recent assignment. He finished half of it before he slid it under a blank piece of lined paper.

Now, he could tell his dad he was doing homework if he cared enough to ask. 

 

‘ _ Hannibal, _

 

_ Thanks for the brain. It’s a bit on the nose for you, don’t you think? Honestly, I felt so stupid when I bought the trout for you. I had almost convinced myself not to send it to you, thinking you would see it as childish or weird. But I figured I would have wasted my money if I didn’t give it to you, so I sent it. I’m glad you like it, though I think you gave it more significance than it deserves. _

_ I’m glad to hear you sound as pretentious as ever. When we meet again, you’ll have to say something that shows off your accent in a spectacular way, just so I can laugh at you. I have missed being able to make fun of you for that.  _

_ You know what’s really funny? I’m so alone that sometimes, my thoughts have your voice. Like, the little voice in your head when you think? Mine sounds like you. Mostly when I have been having to deal with entirely stupid people, not unlike our dear friend Fred. _

_ I’ve been kind of learning how to control my weird ability thing. I think it makes most people think I’m a sociopath though. I have to basically completely cut myself off emotionally, which might not be entirely healthy I realize, and then I don’t get into their heads. It’s easier to do this than to pretend I don’t know what they are thinking.  _

_ I’m sure you’ll tell me I should find a more constructive outlet for it, but I think I’ll just have to wait until I make it into the police academy. At least I hope it will be useful there.  _

_ What university are you thinking of going to? I seriously doubt we would ever end up in the same one, but maybe I’ll move close enough to attend one nearby. I think that would be nice. We could meet up after school or on weekends and have actual conversations. You could complain about the terrible food I eat while I make fun of your accent. _

_ That would be fun. Like old times.  _

_ Though I guess other people have older friends, but you are the only person I have known for so long,  other than my father.  _

_ Anyways, I had better get back to the real world, where we are unlikely to ever see each other again. _

_ Will _ ’

 

Will folded the paper up and stuck it between a few homework assignments. 


	6. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's POV, spanning a longer amount of time than the other chapters. It's short, but the ones following won't be, I promise.

Hannibal read the letter in the study of his house. He sighed at its conclusion.

Will had a very poor opinion of his own fortune. He believed anything bad that could possibly happen, would happen to him. He placed the letter in the drawer where he kept all the others. 

Hannibal had a much different view of life. He was going to take his destiny by the reigns and change its course if he needed to. He knew it was unlikely that he and Will would find each other again, but he would make it happen. 

Looking down at the picture he had been working on, Hannibal frowned.

It was a likeness of Will, and many would tell him that it was perfect. Hannibal could see every flaw. It was accurate, but lacked the same life that Will could fill a room with. The eyes didn’t shine in the same way, and the hair was altogether too still.

Hannibal knew there was likely no artistic way to capture the essence of Will, but his traitorous hands continued to try. Perhaps, once he had more than memories of Will, they would surrender to him at last. 

Slipping a set of headphones on, Hannibal tried to turn his attention to his Italian lessons, though he found his mind frustratingly prone to wandering.

\---

 

_ ‘ Hannibal, _

 

_ Sorry in advance for what I’m about to confess to you. _

_ I got in a fistfight yesterday. _

_ I didn’t go looking for a fight, I swear. I was walking past this orchard on my way to find work, and I could hear a dog yelping. _

_ I hopped the fence to help it untangle it’s foot or whatever, and I found a couple guys beating it up. They had cut some switches from the cherry trees, real thin ones that sting and can cut if they’re swung fast enough.  _

_ So the poor dog was tethered to one of the trees and the boys were completely tanning it’s hide. I couldn’t help myself.  _

_ Honestly, if I didn’t feel so guilty about starting a fight in the first place, I might brag that the two guys look worse off than me, but I know you wouldn’t appreciate that very much.  _

_ My father hates me, I’m pretty sure. He gave my black eye one look and just told me I had better not have got caught stealing. He thinks I deserve to be beat up, and he might be right. I cause more trouble than I’m worth. I think he’s counting down the days to my birthday with more anticipation than myself.  _

_ I sent an application to the police academy on Monday. It’s not close to where you are now, but I’m not going to make it back there any time soon by the way things are going now.  _

_ Here’s hoping I get accepted.  _

_ I really don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t get in. I can’t think of anything else I really could do. I’m basically useless for anything else.  _

_ Well, I should go find some work to do so I can get more college funds.  _

_ Will ’ _

  
  


Hannibal tucked the letter into the breast pocket of his suit. Will was certainly causing more trouble than most would appreciate. 

Checking his watch, Hannibal noted that he had another half hour before his follow up interview at the hospital. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it and got into the car. He planned to be as near to exactly five minutes early as he could. He hoped to give the impression of promptness, without being excessively early, which might give the idea that he worried too much about being late. 

He drove carefully and calmly, following the law to the letter. He had absolute confidence that he would get the position he wanted. He was good at making people trust him.

\---

His cellphone rang, and Hannibal mentally calculated whether he would remove his hands from the body they were up to the wrist in at the moment, or if he would ignore the call.

He let the phone stop ringing and continued the examination. Anything in the world could wait until he was done.

He peeled off the gloves and washed his hands, making a few notes on the clipboard that accompanied the body. He then turned to his phone, lighting up the screen to see who had called him.

No one important.

Hannibal cleaned up and put away the body, making sure everything was exactly where it should be. 

The authorities in the medical school were much too easy to gain trust from, Hannibal thought. They had been completely willing to let him stay after a few hours to finish, trusting him with not only the lab, but a body and keys to the building. 

He had done nothing to make them question whether or not he should be trusted in the years he had been attending, but he still felt it had been too lax on their part to entrust him with so much.

On the drive home, Hannibal glanced down at the fish hanging from his keys. He frowned.

Will hadn’t written to him in a few months, and he was beginning to worry about him. Last he had heard, Will had been nearing the end of his training in the police academy and would be continuing his studies. He had discovered that he may be even better suited for a place in the FBI, if he could make it. 

Hannibal wanted Will to succeed, and he thought he should be able to get into the FBI, if the psychological testing portion were not too harsh. Will was as talented as anyone, but his mind had always been unique. 

Hannibal sighed a the realization that he didn’t likely have a current address for Will. Writing to him would be impossible. If only Will had managed to give him his phone number before dropping off the face of the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter with them as teenagers. The next one will happen during Aperitif, so if you aren't interested in this story now that they will be treading in canon territory, then stop here. Thanks for reading, and see you in the next one(if you're there).


	7. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence.  
> Aperitif

Hannibal was bored with Franklyn, but he had learned well how to hide it. 

Funny, how working in a hospital had helped him in the psychiatric field. He hadn’t expected them to be so similar in skill set. 

Finally, the hour was up and Hannibal walked Franklyn to the door.

He was surprised by the man in the waiting room, and irked by his obvious attempts to make himself appear to be in charge. Hannibal took solace in the knowledge that this was his office, and he made the man wait outside while he tidied up after the appointment.

The man contented himself with studying the entire office rather than sitting in any of the available seats. Hannibal watched him from his position in front of his desk as they spoke.

“I was wondering if you could help me with a profile,” Crawford said finally.

Hannibal was happy to help, knowing that getting on the good side of the FBI could give him an advantage in many aspects. On top of that, he might be able to track down Will, if he had managed to get in.

Crawford gave him a rundown of the case he was working on, but refused to tell him the name of the profiler he was supposed to study while they worked together. He said it was so Hannibal wouldn’t look him up and get any ideas before they met, as if Hannibal would be so unprofessional. 

When Crawford was finally gone, Hannibal allowed himself to relax a touch.

He had worried that Jack had found some evidence pointing to him at one of his scenes, though he knew he hadn’t left any. If anything, the only thing linking him to the killings was his surgical background, but that was far from unique.

\---

Hannibal entered the office and looked over the mop of dark curls in the chair at the desk. He smiled, remembering Will, and wishing he knew where he was. He took the seat beside the other man, and Jack talked about the killer they were looking for.

Hannibal watched the back of this man’s head, rather than Crawford. The man hadn’t given him more than a glance when he entered the room, and he was now turned away from him completely. 

This was intriguing to Hannibal. He hadn’t met many people who worked for the FBI or the police, who were so clearly introverted. They typically at least acted like they were comfortable in social settings. 

At last, Jack sat behind the desk, facing them both and drawing Hannibal’s gaze back to him.

“Dr. this is Will Graham,” Jack said, gesturing to the other man.

Hannibal felt as if his heart might have stopped, but he let himself doubt what he had just heard. It couldn’t possibly be that easy for him. It must be some other man with the same name, as some sort of cruel trick by the universe.

Hannibal turned toward the other man and studied his face, which was still turned to Jack. 

The glasses obscured his eyes, but Hannibal thought they were remarkably similar to his Will’s. He had dark stubble, and Hannibal wasn’t sure if he could positively say that the face was the same.

“Hello,” Will said. His voice was husky and tired. Again, Hannibal wasn’t sure he could place it with surety. “Would you mind not staring at me?”

Hannibal bowed his head, relenting. His mind was whirring, screaming at him that this was Will, but also refusing to admit it.

Jack took his silence as a cue to talk more.

“Will has the remarkable ability to think like the killers we want to find. That’s why I want him on this case.”

Will grunted into his mug of coffee.

“We’re not here to talk about me,” he said, “Can we please focus on the case?”

Jack acted as if he hadn’t heard him, still facing Hannibal.

“Will and I met at the opening of the Evil Minds museum. He is very intelligent.”

Hannibal thought this must be high praise from Jack, who seemed to think highly of himself almost exclusively.

“Jack, I’m a teacher. I’m not a detective. Can we get back to the case, please?”

Will seemed upset, but not at the praise, at the conversation being pointed at him.

Hannibal turned back to him and smiled.

“Not fond of talking about yourself?”

For the first time, Will met Hannibal’s eyes, and something passed in his look. For a moment, he seemed to recognize Hannibal. Now Hannibal knew. Those eyes were the same, the look had changed his features, momentarily making him look younger. It was Will.

“I just want to get the job done,” Will grunted, returning to his mug, but not drinking from it, just looking at it. He gave the mug a look like it had betrayed him.

“You are uncomfortable with praise, because you find the part of yourself being talked about to be distasteful,” Hannibal prodded, “You think it is not a topic to be taken lightly.”

Will grimaced.

“My thoughts are often not tasty,” He said, “And there are enough killers knocking around in my head that, yeah, I don’t think it should be talked about like some magic trick.”

Hannibal couldn’t help but smile even wider.

Will had always talked so plainly, making people uncomfortable with his comments. He was so clever.

“You don’t make shelter for the side of yourself you deem worthy of praise?” Hannibal asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice, “No fort in the bone arena of your mind for the things you love?”

Will frowned. He scrunched his nose and furrowed his brow.

“I’m not the person we are supposed to be profiling here,” he said. Then his eyes lit with fury and fear as he turned to Jack.

“Am I?”

Jack gave him a hard look, and Will crumbled beneath it. He didn’t really want to have a confrontation.

“Excuse me,” he said, directing his anger at Hannibal, “I have a lecture to get to.”

Will left, and Hannibal smiled after him. He had found Will, and Will was as quick as ever.

“Maybe you shouldn't poke him like that, Doctor,” Jack said.

Hannibal turned back to him, not allowing himself to bend under Jack’s superiority delusion.

“He has perfect empathy,” He stated, turning back to the tack board with information about the case. His mind was alight with new, colorful inspiration.

“This cannibal you’re having him get to know, I think I can help our good Will see his face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm messing with Canon, I hope I can do it well. Let me know what you think, please.


	8. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frightening discovery, and a less frightening one.

Will knew this was not just a copycat when he walked onto the scene. It was laid out like a renaissance painting. Beautifully grotesque, and seeping into his mind like a venom.

He didn’t know what exactly he was looking at, but all the pieces were sliding together for him. He could see the Shrike now. Everything wrong with this scene seemed to have been tailored to his mindset, letting him know what he had missed.

The worst part of the entire thing, was that Will knew whoever had done it must know how his mind works. It tore him to shreds within minutes of thinking of it. They knew how he thought. This was bad.

Will didn’t say anything to Jack, or the others. He didn’t think he could tell anyone.

That doctor that Jack had wanted him to meet, though. He was so much like Hannibal. The accent almost made him think it was, but he knew he wasn’t lucky enough for that. He had given up on seeing Hannibal again a long time ago, and this guy waltzed right in and made him think of him again. There was really no way in hell it was Hannibal. Will never had good luck.

Will wanted to trust him, possibly because he was so much like Hannibal. It could be dangerous for him to link the two in his head if he wasn’t someone he could trust.

Will shook them both out of his head as best he could as he described what the Shrike was to Jack.

“And the copycat?” Jack demanded.

“Sadistic, intelligent psychopath, very hard to catch. Probably won’t kill this way again,” Will said. He couldn’t help but say the next thing that bitterly came to his mind. 

“Have that psychiatrist draw up a profile for you, since you like him so much.”

Jack scowled.

“Will, doctor Lecter was there to help with the profile. I don’t know why you are so upset about that.”

Will blinked, frozen in his retreat. He turned back toward Jack, trying to mask his confusion. 

“Doctor Lecter?” he asked.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“I told you all about him, and you didn’t bother to remember even his name?” He asked, “Yeah, Hannibal Lecter. He’s a good psychiatrist, and I wanted his help. Alana recommended him.”

Will turned abruptly and stalked away. He couldn’t say anything else.

Jack clearly didn’t know they knew each other, that much was sure. Hannibal hadn’t seemed to recognize him, so maybe he didn’t either. 

Will cradled a glass of whiskey as he sat in his motel room, thinking.

He was too embarrassed now to say anything to Hannibal. If Hannibal recognized him, he would say something eventually, so he would just wait.

\---

The knock on the door was too early, Will thought as he climbed out of bed. 

It was probably Crawford, wanting him to do some more looking for the Shrike. He didn’t want to, but he answered the door.

He blinked in surprise when he was met with the sight of Hannibal on the doorstep. He had a bag, like a doctor’s and he smiled warmly when Will opened the door.

“Hello, Will,”

Will had to tear his eyes away, unable to meet his gaze, but finding it hard to keep from staring. He looked around behind Hannibal, as if he were expecting to see Jack, waiting to jump out.

“Where’s Crawford?” he asked. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and didn’t want to seem overly friendly.

“Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today,” Hannibal replied, before finally taking his eyes from Will’s face to glance around him before continuing, “May I come in?”

Will hesitated. Hannibal had never come to his home when they were going to school together, as Will hadn’t wanted to let him see his living conditions. Hannibal had never seemed to mind, likely because he wouldn’t really enjoy being there anyway.

But this wasn’t his home, and they weren’t children. This was a motel, and Hannibal might not even remember him. 

He nodded mutely, letting his eyes flick back up to Hannibal’s for a moment.

Hannibal had brought breakfast for them both, and Will remembered all the times Hannibal had insisted he eat some of his own lunch that he had prepared. Will knew he was a good cook, probably better by now.

Hannibal tried making polite conversation, telling Will why he cooked his own meals and such, but Will didn’t really respond, other than to tell him it was delicious. 

“I would apologize for my analytical ambush, but I know that I will soon be apologizing again, and you’ll tire of that eventually. So I have to consider using apologies sparingly,” Hannibal said, as if he were calming a skittish horse.

“Just keep it professional,” Will said, almost without thinking. He hadn’t meant to snap, but he was already frustrated with having to act like he didn’t know Hannibal.

Hannibal paused, and Will thought he might be feeling hurt or offended, but he didn’t apologize. He just put more food in his mouth.

“Or we could socialize like adults,” Hannibal said, sounding resolved and sure, “As I recall, we haven’t seen each other in quite a while. I would have hoped you wouldn’t have forgotten me.”

Will froze, another bite of eggs halfway to his mouth. He looked up at Hannibal, who was frowning down at his own food. 

Putting down his fork, Will cleared his throat.

“I thought you had forgotten me,” he admitted, “I didn’t recognize you in Crawford’s office, and when I realized it was you, I noticed you hadn’t said anything. I thought you hadn’t recognized me either.”

Hannibal looked up and smiled at this.

“I could not believe what I was seeing, in his office,” Hannibal confessed, “Though your wit and unique charm cleared it up soon enough.”

Will laughed. 

“Sure, my charm. Sorry I was so upset, it’s not like Jack to try to get me analyzed on the sly. I suppose the analysis won’t be of much value now though, since you know me.”

Hannibal raised his hands in a sort of dignified shrug.

“What Jack doesn’t know will not hurt him,” he said simply, “If you don’t want him to call in another psychiatrist, then you might let me give him my analysis. I promise not to include anything too personal.”

Will stared at Hannibal as he put a forkful of food in his mouth. He still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was like a dream that had just up and walked out of his sleep and into his waking hours.

Hannibal looked up after a moment, waiting for a reply.

Will nodded numbly, unsure of what else he could do.

Hannibal smiled.

“So, Crawford says you have a talent for the monsters,” Hannibal said.

Will smiled, but this time it was a confused, sad, and uncertain smile.

“Yeah, you know my , uh, _thing_?” he asked, gesturing to his head, “Apparently it’s exactly as useful to the FBI as I had hoped.”

He stabbed a bit of sausage on his fork, frowning angrily at it.

“Only problem is, I’m not part of the FBI, so they have to use me like a tool.”

Hannibal considered this.

“The psychological testing portion identified you as unstable?” he asked.

Will looked up briefly before nodding sadly.

“I don’t think the Shrike killed that girl in the field,” Will blurted, changing the direction of the conversation.

Hannibal graciously took the bait.

“The devil is in the details,” he said, “What gave it away?”

Will rubbed the stubble on his chin and set his elbows on the table.

“Everything,” he said. He felt an immense relief at being able to tell someone.

“It’s like he had to show me the negative so I could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift wrapped.”

Hannibal studied Will as he was using his hands to illustrate his point. His hands were shaking more than he would have liked.

“This frightens you,” Hannibal observed.

Will put his hands on the table, moving one to pick his fork back up to continue eating. He didn’t take another bite, though.

“This one knows me,” he said, unable to meet Hannibal’s eyes, “He knows how I think. I don’t know how, it was gift wrapped for me, not anyone else. They know me.”

His voice was shaking, and he could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t look up to meet them.

“Well, that is certainly a reason for concern,” Hannibal noted, “Have you told Jack?”

Will shook his head, putting some more food into his mouth now that his hands were steady again.

“I don’t want him to think this is because I’m unstable, that I think this,” he explained.

Hannibal nodded.

“You know, Will, I think Jack thinks of you as a fragile little teacup. The finest china used for only special guests.”

Will laughed, a genuine laugh, but still restrained, as if he were afraid to laugh.

“But you know better?” he asked.

Hannibal smiled.

“I know you.”


	9. Fright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hobbes fiasco, slightly condensed so I can get on to the more exciting stuff. Mostly canon compliant.

Will pulled up to the trailer that held the office they would be looking at files in. Hannibal couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he watched Will steel himself for more human contact. Will had always been remarkable at masking his true self. Hannibal felt a unique privilege at being allowed to see behind the veil.

Will glanced over and frowned.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked.

Hannibal’s grin widened.

“Not only have we found each other, but I am getting to see how the FBI operates when they are not kicking in doors,” he said.

Will looked out at the landscape around them, as if scanning for enemies. 

“It’s not very entertaining,” he said, “It’s a lot of paperwork and looking for clues that might not even be there.”

“So what are we doing here?” Hannibal asked.

Will shrugged.

“We found a scrap of metal on that one victim that we found. We traced it to a couple of companies that use that metal and pipe threader. We’re looking through their information on their employees.”

Hannibal nodded.

“What are we looking for?” he asked.

“Anything peculiar.”

\---

In the office, Will was ignoring the protests and questions of the secretary as he looked through files, deciding what they should bring back to Crawford.

Hannibal followed his lead, ignoring the lady and skimming through information for anything unique. He was all the while watching Will over his shoulder. It would be quite the learning experience if he could see Will encounter the killer face to face.

Will paused with a file open in his hands.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs?” Will asked aloud.

Hannibal stopped as well, watching in silence. The woman replied, not being as polite as she could have been.

“Does he have a daughter?” Will continued, mostly ignoring the woman.

He gave a profile of what the daughter would look like, matching the profile of the victims, and the woman couldn’t say.

“What have you found? What makes him peculiar?” Hannibal asked over Will’s shoulder.

Will showed him the file.

“Phone number, no address.”

“And that means he has something to hide?” Hannibal questioned.

Will huffed slightly, clearly stressed from having to deal with the secretary.

“The others all left addresses, and he missed days of work at a time” he offered, handing the file to Hannibal. Then, to the secretary, “do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?”

Hannibal looked over the file while Will got the information he needed.

It was him. Hannibal knew.

\---

As they sat outside the house, Will took a few aspirin and put his mask on again in preparation to talk to the residents. Hannibal watched, and let Will get out ahead of him.

When the woman stumbled out the door, Hannibal paused. He waited as Will scrambled helplessly to try to save her. Will realized she was gone and headed into the house, his gun drawn.

Hannibal calmly walked up to the doorstep and surveyed the scene. Hobbs had done a good job on his wife. Hannibal walked past. 

He could hear Will shouting, a girl crying, and then gunshots. Far too many gunshots, he thought. 

Hannibal stopped in the doorway. Hobbs died in the corner and Will was trying desperately to save the girl.

Hannibal stepped forward and placed his hand on her neck, using the other to angle her head and stop the blood flow as much as possible. 

Will was shaking, and he was covered in blood, both from the spray when he had shot Hobbs, and from the two women he had tried to save.

Hannibal wished it would have been appropriate for him to admire the way Will looked with blood up to his elbows. 

\---

Abigail. That was the name of the girl that Will was going to be attached to.

Hannibal knew that Will had let himself into her father’s mind so far that he would try to replace him for her. He would feel responsible for her injuries, as well as her father’s death, and he would want to make up for all of that.

Hannibal would have to find a way around that, as it would most definitely end up being an unhealthy attachment for Will. He would also have to find a way to connect it to himself, but that was the easy part, as he had saved her life.

Hannibal woke up in the hospital room to see Will, sitting in a chair across the bed. He smiled, letting it appear sad as it turned down to a frown quickly when he looked at Abigail.

“Will she be alright?” Will asked, his voice choked.

Hannibal looked over at him. He hadn’t slept recently, that much was obvious.

“Only time will tell,” he offered.

Will nodded. 

“On a lighter note,” Hannibal said, “I think we may be seeing a lot more of each other soon enough.”

Will looked at him quizzically.

“I think it is likely that Jack will want you to start seeing a psychiatrist after what has happened,” Hannibal explained, “And I am the most likely candidate, if you would like.”

Will furrowed his brow.

“Wouldn’t that be a bit unethical, since you know me?” he asked.

Hannibal tilted his head in reluctant agreement.

“Yes, but would you rather go to a stranger to have them poke around in your head? As I have said, what Jack doesn’t know will not kill him.”

Will nodded thoughtfully.

“I suppose he thinks Alana has too much personal interest,” he mused aloud, “Little does he know.”

Hannibal smiled.

“Little does he know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those pesky ethical codes. Hannibal doesn't care for them when it comes to Will <3\. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Sorry it was later than usual.


	10. Shrinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the conversations begin

Will steeled himself for the reaction he knew the students would have when he entered the classroom. 

They all clapped, standing as he walked to his desk.

“Please stop that,” he said loudly and the clapping died down.

He turned off the lights and woke the projector, lighting the wall up with a picture of the resignation letter from Hobbs.

He stared for a moment, unable to keep his mind from wandering to the most distasteful places. Images flashed in his mind, and he continued on with his lecture despite them.

Alana walked in through the throng of his students as the left.

She was there to warn him about Jack’s plan to ambush him, which unfolded as they spoke.

“They’ve ok’d active return to the field,” Jack said.

Will knew this was because Jack wanted him in the field, not because they actually thought it was a good idea. Jack usually got his way.

“The question is,” said Alana, ever the ally, “Do you want to go back to the field?”

Will hesitated, and Jack took that as an invitation.

“I want him back in the field,” he admitted, giving Alana one of his looks, “And I’ve told the board I’m recommending a psych eval.”

Will almost froze at his words, remembering what Hannibal had said. His eyes flicked to Alana. Had Hannibal been wrong? Had Will been wrong?

“Are we starting now?” he asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice. He really didn’t want it to be Alana.

“The session wouldn’t be with me,” Alana clarified. 

Will hardly had time to feel relieved before Jack spoke again.

“Hannibal Lecter’s a better fit, your relationship isn't personal.”

Will almost smiled at that.

“But if you are more comfortable with doctor Bloom,” Jack began.

“I’m not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head,” Will interrupted.

He knew he might be making it so Hannibal and he wouldn’t get to see each other as often, but he thought he should be as honest as possible.

“You’ve never killed anyone before, Will,” Alana tried. She continued about how scarring that can be for people, and Will only half listened.

“The psych eval isn’t a formality?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” Jack boomed, “It’s so I can get some sleep at night. I need to know you didn’t get too close.”

Alana’s words. Will knew he was using Alana’s words. This was because of her. Jack had been discussing him with her, and she had told him not to let Will get too close. She was the driving force in his decisions regarding Will. It almost made him angry, but he like Alana too much. He knew she was doing it for the right reasons.

Jack was still talking, but Will didn’t care.

“Therapy doesn't work on me,” he said. He didn’t want Jack to have any delusions that Will would magically become more stable after starting therapy.

They argued only a moment before Alana piped in as the voice of reason, as was her habit.

“Why not have a conversation with Hannibal?” she offered, “He was there, he knows what happened.”

Will thought that was the best idea anyone had had all day. He could see Hannibal unofficially, satisfying Jack, without bringing in any of the messy details of a patient-doctor relationship.

Will frowned and gave Alana one nod before he walked away. He could hear Jack saying something else, but he didn’t listen.

\---

“You are emotionally stable and more or less sane,” Hannibal declared, “Well done.”

Will smiled, but furrowed his brow.

“Don’t you think you should talk to me a bit more before declaring me sane?” he only half joked.

Hannibal looked up at him from the ground floor.

“I think this will allow Jack to remain assured that he didn’t break you, while leaving you free to say what you think without fearing that it will color the result of my diagnosis.”

Will considered this, turning back to scan the shelves of books.

“Jack thinks I need therapy,” he said bitterly.

“Well, therapy can be good for anyone,” Hannibal suggested, “If we allow it to be. You needn’t worry though, I think you need stability more than therapy. You need a safe place to come when Jack has you wading through the dark too much.”

“Yeah, well the dark likes to stick things to me and make me bring them along,” Will complained.

“Abigail Hobbs,” Hannibal guessed. “You saved her life, but also orphaned her. You feel obligated to her.”

“You helped,” Will pointed out, “Do you feel obligated?”

Hannibal paused to look up at Will again. 

“Yes.”

Will looked at him like he had just come back to life and offered him the same.

“I have considered other scenarios where my actions altered the outcome,” Hannibal continued, “As I imagine you have.”

Will nodded solemnly.

“Jack thinks she helped her dad kill those girls,” Will confessed miserably.

Hannibal considered this. It was very likely. He thought it almost impossible for it to be otherwise, everything considered.

“How does that make you feel?” He asked.

Will chuckled, but his nose scrunched in displeasure.

“How does it make you feel?” he retorted.

Hannibal paused.

“I won’t pretend to be unaffected by the notion. I think it is a terrible thing to consider,” he replied, “But I think it’s possible.”

Will frowned. He leaned over the railing and rubbed his forehead.

“So do I ,” he admitted, sounding disgusted with himself. “Everything in my head is telling me she didn’t. She couldn’t have. But I know how it looks. I know it’s possible, and to everyone else, it looks very likely.”

Hannibal tilted his head curiously.

“How does it look to you?” he asked.

Will hung his head.

“Through my killer tinted glasses,” he grimly joked, “I think Hobbs would have liked that. Through my obligated surrogate father glasses, I refuse to believe it’s true.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Jack will ask her when she wakes up,” he said, “Or he will want one of us to.”

Will sighed and rubbed his face, shaking his head. He was at the top of the ladder now.

“You should be able to see that’s a bad idea,” he said, climbing down “At least for me. I’m the guy who killed her dad. I’m also the worst at having emotions. It shouldn’t be me.”

Hannibal nodded.

“It shouldn’t be either of us, realistically,” he reasoned, “But Jack will have his way.”

Will shook his head, gears turning away in his head. He sat in one of the chairs, and Hannibal sat in the other.

“Not if Alana has hers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a while, things are going to be mostly canon compliant, but Will and Hannibal are obviously going to be a bit more familiar with each other. Things will veer off of canon soon enough. I hope you enjoy this.


	11. Mushrooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallucinations. Yay!

Jack was entirely too pleased as they entered the crime scene. He was smiling like an idiot as he noted that Hannibal had given Will the all clear to be in the field. Even when Will was entirely too bitter to him about it, he looked like he had just discovered some secret.

The corpses had mushrooms growing from them, and that was all they were there for. They were food for the mushrooms, and fuel for the unique type of fungus they were. Creating connection through mushrooms.

Will thought Hannibal would have a fun time puzzling this one out with him, and he almost smiled.

Then Hobbs was looking up at him. Will was mostly confused at the sight, but he was also frightened. He was too close, he didn’t have time to pull his gun.

The body grabbed him by the arm.

This pulled him out of the hallucination and he was back in the real world. He backed away as the rest of the team raced forward to help the man if they could. 

They couldn’t.

\---

“I don’t know if you should have declared me sane,” Will admitted to Hannibal, “It might look bad on your record if the truth comes out.”

“Hallucinating on one occasion, especially immediately after a traumatic event, is not evidence of insanity,” Hannibal countered, “It is evidence of stress. Have you been sleeping well recently?”

Will waved him off. 

“I’ve never slept well,” he said, wandering in circles in front of Hannibal’s desk.

“Will, you get into the minds of killers. You saw their victim, in the form of what you could consider to be yours.”

Will shook his head, as if trying to dislodge a distasteful thought.

“I don’t know if I consider him my victim,” Will said defensively.

That was mildly disappointing.

“Then what is he?” Hannibal prodded.

“Dead?” Will guessed with a shrug. 

“Is it harder to get into the mind of a killer, now that you could be numbered among them?” Hannibal asked.

Will slowly nodded, biting his lip.

“It’s like, I can’t completely feel everything that they feel, because I am stuck feeling what I felt. The memory blurs with the association.”

Hannibal marveled at Will. A look into Will’s mind was a wonder that so few would behold. Hannibal wanted to ensure that he was the only one allowed such a privilege. 

“So, this killer. Why did he leave the arms exposed?” Hannibal asked. 

He could have elaborated, but everything else was as good as implied, when it was between them. Will understood what Hannibal was saying.

“He didn’t do it out of any romantic whim,” Will explained, getting into his profiler mindset, “He did it for a practical reason. He was feeding them intravenously.”

Hannibal thought for a moment.

“But he let them die,” He offered.

“They weren’t the crops,” Will elaborated, leaning back against the desk. “They were the food. He wasn’t feeding them to keep them from dying, he was keeping them alive to feed the mushrooms.”

“These mushrooms have a particular ability,” Hannibal noted, “their spores can sense presences, and the structure of a fungus mirrors the structure of the human brain.”

Will nodded, visibly filing away this information for further use.

“He is trying to make connections. He’s breaking humans down to a more basic life form. One that can make connections that the human brain can’t.”

Hannibal studied Will with wonder.

“Your brain can make connections.”

Will laughed. He relaxed more against the desk, and Hannibal was happy to see Will so at ease.

“The ones he is looking for are manifested more physically than mine, but I appreciate being compared to a fungus,” he said.

Hannibal smiled.

\---

Will was sure this was the right guy. As Jack described him, Will grew more and more sure. He matched everything.

When he wasn’t at the counter in the pharmacy, Will was only a bit surprised.

He led Jack to the car and pulled the woman out of the dirt in the trunk. Will wasn’t really paying attention when Price rushed out to talk to Jack, but he tuned in when he heard that they had found something on Stammets’ computer.

It was an article about him.

Freddie Lounds had written an article about Will, and it wasn’t pretty. 

As Beverly read it aloud to them, Will stared into nothing, letting himself feel nothing. He didn’t want to care. He just wanted this all to be over. He wanted to talk to Hannibal.

The thought of Hannibal sent Will crashing back into reality. Hannibal would want to talk about the article. It made Will want to die, thinking that Hannibal would read it. Hannibal would know it was almost completely lies, and he would never consider letting it affect how he treated or thought about Will, but Will hated the thought that Hannibal would have to read what others thought of him.

\---

Will stared at Abigail’s motionless form. He found some sort of solace knowing that she would likely never read the article. This was overshadowed by the knowledge that she may never wake up, and if she did, she would likely only know him as the guy who killed her dad.

Hooves in the hallway, and Will looked over to see the stag. It walked past without pausing or looking toward him, and Will thought he could almost hear the ruffling of its feathers as it moved.

He got up and walked to the hall. He watched as it rounded a corner out of sight.

Will woke up. 

He was under a blanket. Alana was on the bed next to Abigail. She was reading something, but her words were still muffled from his sleep.

“What’re you reading?” 

The words had slipped out, despite his desire not to interrupt her soothing voice.

Alana said something in response, but Will wasn’t sure how to pay attention quite yet.

“You could be reading to a killer,” He warned.

The world clicked back into focus in time for him to hear her response.

“Innocent until proven guilty,” She said softly, “I’m about to broach the subject of the ‘Takes One to Know One’ article.”

Will wanted to sneer, but he didn’t.

“Yeah, that. I have a psychiatrist, you know,” he replied.

Alana smiled.

“So, you are getting therapy at last, then?” she asked.

Will sat up.

“It’s not exactly therapy. We kind of just have conversations.”

Alana smiled as if she thought _he_ was the ignorant one.

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever been in a room alone together,” Will observed.

Alana glanced at Abigail.

“We’re not exactly alone now,” she joked, “But I hadn’t noticed.”

This annoyed Will. She had been systematically avoiding being alone with him since the moment they met, all the while being so very kissable, and she had the gall to pretend she hadn’t realized.

“Yeah, right,” he said, a touch too gruffly, “Whatever.”

Alana seemed like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t.

Will looked out the window at the grey sky.

“I was enjoying listening to you read,” he said gently.

Alana again hesitated, as if she had something she wanted to say, but she didn’t. Instead, she picked the book back up and resumed her reading.


	12. Fight

Will picked up the phone on his way out of the hospital.

“Yeah?” he answered.

Jack’s voice came through the other end, sounding urgent.

“Will. You at the hospital?”

“Yes I am,” Will said, hoping he wasn’t about to get an earful from Jack about her possibly being a murderer.

“Stammets knows about Abigail.”

Will ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket and pulling his gun. He ran to her room and saw the empty bed.

He scared the wits out of some poor nurse at the desk as he asked about who had taken Abigail from her room.

He ran to the stairs, holding his gun away from himself as he bolted down them. 

When he reached the hallway, Stammets was turning at the end. Will shouted at him and bolted after him, raising his gun.

His hands were shaking when he pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit the man in his right shoulder. He dropped the gun he had been holding and fell to the floor, clutching at his arm.

Will kicked the gun away and put himself between the man and Abigail. He checked her and found a pulse. 

“What were you going to do to her?” he demanded. His voice sounded foreign to him, angry and commanding. Nothing like how it usually was.

“We all evolve from mycelium, I was merely reintroducing her to the concept,” the man blubbered, panting and cowering in the corner.

“By burying her alive?” Will asked, his voice closer to normal now.

“The journalist said you understood me,” the man panted.

Will lowered the gun slightly. He didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t want to understand how someone could kill and feel good about it. He didn’t want to know how this man had wanted to return humans to the ground and make them become a simpler life form. He didn’t want to imagine how the fungus could react to someone walking by and how maybe, just maybe, if it were from people, it could be those people reaching out for a loved one.

“I don’t.”

\---

“Did you see Hobbs again?” Hannibal asked.

Will shook his head. He paced around the office, less nervous, and more restless.

“I saw Eldon Stammets,” he replied, “I knew where I was and who I was shooting. I knew why I was shooting him, and what he was doing.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Then Hobbs isn’t what’s haunting you, Will. You are. You haunt yourself because you can’t accept the fact that there can be someone you enjoy killing.” 

Will knew Hannibal was right, but he refused to accept it, even as Hannibal saw through him.

“I didn’t enjoy killing him,” Will said defensively, “I enjoyed saving Abigail’s life, if we actually managed that.”

“And did it feel the same way when you saved her this time?” Hannibal asked.

Will resigned to the fact that Hannibal could read him like a book.

“No,” he admitted.

“You didn’t kill Stammets,” Hannibal pointed out.

Will turned away from Hannibal.

“I don’t know if that’s for lack of trying,” he said carefully, “I might have meant to shoot him in the shoulder. I might have meant to kill him. I can’t be sure.”

“You would have wanted to kill him because you understand him,” Hannibal said, “and the part of you that understands him scares you. He gave voice to the unmentionable, and the fact that some part of you can find that beautiful terrifies you. In killing him, you felt as though you could kill that part of you.”

Will thought about it for a moment before sitting down. Hannibal mirrored him.

“You don’t feel bad about killing Hobbs,” Hannibal surmised, “You feel bad because it felt good.”

Will nodded, offering a wavering smile.

“I liked killing Hobbs.”

\---

When Alana showed up, Will was not prepared. 

He let his dogs out and followed them in just his sleepwear, which wasn’t much.

Alana walked up, pausing to pet the dogs on their way past. Will froze momentarily, unsure of what to do. Alana just smiled at him.

“I didn’t hear you drive up,” he said dumbly.

“Hybrid,” she offered as explanation, “Great car for stalking.”

“Uh, I think I’m going to go put some pants on,” Will said, turning back to the house.

Alana was unusually quiet when Will started making coffee for them both.

“Not to be rude,” he said, handing her a mug, “But why are you here?”

Alana took a sip to postpone her response.

“Abigail Hobbs woke up.”

Will put his mug down, folding his hands into his lap. He stared off into his kitchen and, without meaning to, his mind went to Hannibal. Had they told him yet? They probably had, as they would expect Will to respond more erratically. Hannibal was always more emotionally even.

“How does that make you feel?” Alana asked.

“I feel,” Will began, “Like I want to get my coat.”

Alana nodded. She started saying something else, but she was interrupted by Will’s phone ringing.

Will looked at his phone, which was on the table in front of him. It was Jack. He left it to ring. Alana studied Will, as he picked his mug back up and took a shaky sip.

“Jack will want you to talk to her,” Alana said.

Will nodded, not moving from his seat.

“But you don’t,” he observed.

“I don’t think it would be good for either of you at this point,” she amended.

“Abigail doesn’t have anyone,” Will said, making sure he sounded pathetic, but not having to try very hard.

Alana gave him a sympathetic look.

“You can’t be her everyone,” she said. There was a silent offer in her eyes, and Will knew she was hooked. She could be someone for Abigail, and she knew it.

Will nodded again, feeling like there was nothing else he could do. He knew this was what he and Hannibal had wanted, but he couldn’t help wanting to see Abigail. He wanted to apologize, try to make it better.

Will stood up suddenly, and Alana followed hurriedly. 

“Will-”

“I’m going to get dressed,” Will interrupted, “I’d prefer it if you left first. Sorry for being rude.”

Alana put her hand on his arm and he turned back to her.

“Will, I need to know you aren’t going to do something impulsive,” she said, a low and serious tone in her voice.

Will met her gaze briefly before looking down at his feet.

“I’m going to see my therapist,” he said.

Alana let go of him and pressed her lips together. She nodded mutely and walked to the door. She cast one last glance at Will before she left.

Will got dressed in a hurry and fell into his car after he took care of the dogs. He steadied his shaking hands by pressing them onto the steering wheel. He took a couple aspirin to help with the headache blooming in his skull.

He tried to take the roads slowly, to let his thoughts have time to sort themselves out, but he found himself going over the limit anyways.

\---

Hannibal opened the door and Will brushed past him with a nod and a huff in greeting. Hannibal blinked in surprise.

“Good morning, Will,” he said, turning toward Will.

Will was pacing nervously around the office, rubbing his face and his brow. His hair was unbrushed and his clothes were wrinkled.

“I assume you are here because Abigail woke up,” Hannibal said.

“Oh yeah, you think?” Will snapped.

Hannibal was silent, waiting for Will to return to him.

Will sighed. “I’m sorry. I know. That was rude. I’m just not feeling well.”

Hannibal nodded. Will hadn’t been sleeping well, and he had never been good at eating well. He had every reason not to feel well.

“Has anyone gone to see her?” he asked, already planning out how to get Alana to go.

Will nodded.

“I think Alana is there right now. If not, she’s on her way. She probably stopped to buy Abigail some clothes or something. She’s always the good-cop kind of character,” Will explained.

“Then that is good,” Hannibal said, “What makes you so upset?”

Will collapsed into one of the chairs, as if he hadn’t sat down in days. He laid his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“I want to see her,” he said. His voice was tight with emotion.

“As do I,” Hannibal said, “But you and I both know it is probably better for her to talk with Alana some before we make contact.”

Will sighed heavily. His entire body relaxed a margin, but he didn’t move.

“I know,” he said quietly, “I think the reason I’m so anxious is because I don’t know if she will, or for that matter can, forgive me. I want to see her and apologize, but I’m afraid to find out what she thinks of me.”

Hannibal waited. Will was thinking through everything on his own, and Hannibal watched. Seeing the gears turn in Will’s mind had always been one of his favorite things to have the opportunity for.

“Have anything to say, doctor Lecter?” Will asked, raising his head and sitting up straighter in the chair.

Hannibal also shifted in his seat.

“I wonder if it wouldn’t be easier for you if she chose not to forgive you,” he said.

Will furrowed his brow and frowned, but met Hannibal’s eyes in a signal to continue.

“I believe that you would feel the pain of her mistrust and anger towards you, but it would benefit you in the long run. You would no longer have the obligation to remain part of her life, nor would you have the concern of her perception of you coloring your perception of her. It would help you to be objective in the investigation Jack is setting up for her.”

Hannibal tilted his head and studied Will as he reacted to his words.

Will relaxed almost entirely, which surprised Hannibal. He let out a labored breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing well enough, but was now able to.

“I think you’re right,” Will admitted, though his voice was tainted with guilt, “But I can’t help feeling anxious without knowing. I still want her to forgive me. I don’t know how many ruined lives my conscience can hold, and hers probably won’t be the last.”

Hannibal pressed his lips together. Jack Crawford was to blame for Will’s unhappiness, and it was making Hannibal very upset with him.

“I could give Jack a letter declaring you are unfit for field work,” Hannibal suggested, “If it would help you to stop your work. I can see it weighs heavily on you.”

Will shook his head, his unruly curls bouncing in a way that reminded Hannibal of times gone by.

“I want to be helpful, you know that. All I’ve ever wanted was to find somewhere my “gift” would help. I found that place, now all I have to do is work through the pain.”

Hannibal wanted to disagree with Will. He wanted to tell Will that he was so much more important than the work he was doing. He wanted to write to Jack anyway and make Will stop hurting himself. He knew Will wouldn’t let him.

“Very well,” he said at last, standing up,  “I have a meeting with Jack and Alana in an hour. I think you likely have tasks to complete as well. Shall we meet for dinner?”

Will blinked up in surprise.

“Dinner?” he said, as if he might not have heard Hannibal correctly.

“Yes, Will. I cook, and I have been told I do it well. Would you come to my house for dinner tonight?”

Will stared up at him in disbelief, as if this all might not really be happening.

“Uh, sure. Okay. Do I need to dress up or bring anything?” he asked awkwardly.

Hannibal smiled.

“Only yourself and your charming personality.”


	13. Appointments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many different locations this time round. Hannibal and Will have a friendly conversation, and they see Abigail together.

Hannibal watched Alana and Jack converse like he was watching a thrilling game of tennis. They deflected each blow and replied with their own shot in return. Hannibal almost thought he might not need to be there after all. Alana was doing most of the work for him.

“How was she, when you saw her?” Hannibal asked, allowing concern to color his words.

Alana glanced at Jack almost suspiciously as she responded.

“Surprisingly practical,” she said.

Of course, Jack took this as evidence for her guilt. As he and Alana sparred, Hannibal only ever offered suggestions when they were asked for, and neither party was particularly satisfied that he was on their side when the conversation was over.

Hannibal was satisfied that Will would be going to see Abigail soon, and he would be there as well. Jack thought it would be beneficial for Will’s therapist to be there to help in the case he was needed. 

That suited Hannibal just fine.

\---

Will arrived early and cursed himself for being awkward for about five minutes before he got out of his car and headed for the door. 

Hannibal opened the door and smiled warmly. He was still wearing his apron, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Will was a bit taken aback by how much he looked like a professional chef, though he realized it shouldn’t have surprised him that much. Hannibal always looked professional.

“Good evening, Will,” Hannibal said, stepping back to let Will through the door.

Will stepped inside and he could almost sense Hannibal in the way the house felt. Everything he laid his eyes on just whispered Hannibal’s name, as if it were a secret.

“Uh, hi,” Will replied. 

Hannibal led Will to the kitchen.

“Would you like to help?” Hannibal asked, gesturing to a few vegetables that still needed to be cut.

“Uh, I’m not sure I’d be very helpful,” Will confessed, “I don’t cook often. I’d probably mess something up.”

Hannibal waved away his comment, producing a cutting board and knife for Will to use.

“If you make a mistake, I would be glad to guide you, but I think you will do just fine. Of course, if you would prefer not to help, I will not pressure you to.”

Will washed his hands and stepped up to the counter. He wanted to be helpful, so he picked up the knife and began to cut the vegetables. If he hadn’t known Hannibal so well, he would have been much too nervous to attempt it and make a fool of himself.

Will was so focused on making his slices even and clean, that he didn’t notice Hannibal come up beside him.

“If I may,” Hannibal said, putting his hand on the knife over Will’s, “I find it much easier when you utilize the curve of the blade, like this.”

Hannibal showed Will how to cut them with smoother strokes, and then left him to it. Will felt more relaxed afterward, despite feeling like he had just let slip how uncultured he was. His shoulders lowered slightly, and the headache that had been threatening to emerge seemed to abate by a margin.

Something that Will realized he like about Hannibal, was that he didn’t try to intrude on his personal space. He had been close to Will when he was guiding him, but he didn’t come unnecessarily close or linger too long. Other people did that kind of thing all the time, trying to make him more comfortable with them, and he hated it. Hannibal didn’t though.

The food was smelling amazing, and Will prayed his stomach wouldn’t start growling and give away how hungry he was. 

“Remember the day we met?” Will asked, surprising himself with the question.

Hannibal glanced up with an amused smile.

“Of course I do. I am curious as to why you are bringing it up, though,” he replied.

Will was curious himself. He hesitated for a moment before he gave his response.

“Thank you.”

Hannibal stopped his movements and looked up at Will now, an intrigued glint in his eye.

“Whatever for? I can’t think of anything you need thank me for, especially not to do with that particular memory.”

Will shrugged.

“For not asking if the other kid deserved it when I stabbed him. Most people would ask, and I don’t know how I would have responded. I still don’t know how I would respond if someone asked me,” He confessed.

Hannibal considered this a moment before he resumed his dinner preparations.

“I hardly think you need thank me for that, though I recognize the significance of the gesture. You’re welcome,” he said.

Will felt the emptiness of the house, and wanted to fill it. Not out of discomfort, but more out of a wish to compliment the feeling of Hannibal that emanated from everywhere with himself.

“You know, I think that’s part of what made me consider that we could be friends,” he said, “Though I admit it’s not all of it. You didn’t wear your thoughts on your sleeve like most other people do, which made it easier to talk to you without becoming overwhelmed.”

Hannibal nodded. 

“Respite from the tide of the world. A mind like yours must crave shelter more than a regular mind craves connection. I am glad I could provide that for you,” he said.

Will looked up and studied Hannibal for a moment.

“What about me made you consider that we could be friends? You don’t think that about many people,” Will said.

Hannibal smiled.

“You were as intriguing as you were pleasant to speak with. You did not show guilt for your violent action, and you have a keen intuitive power that I admire. Your observational skills have always impressed me.”

Will smiled to himself and let a huff of laughter out. Hannibal never hesitated to compliment him, which would have embarrassed him if there had been anyone else around.

“I don’t recall being very pleasant to speak with. I was usually pretty blunt and gruff with people back then. You could have been friends with anyone you wanted. Hell, Fred would have loved to be your friend back then.”

Hannibal chuckled.

“Fred would have loved a great many things, if they were offered. I appreciated your cleverness above all others, your ability to understand with very little explanation can be a useful tool in communication. You have a natural talent for such things,” he said.

Will considered the words for a moment.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” he said, his face turning to a frown.

“Do what?” Hannibal asked, concern in his voice.

“Compliment me all the time. I know you’re very polite and everything, but you don’t have to say that kind of stuff to me,” Will said. He hadn’t quite meant to say it, but he had always felt that Hannibal couldn’t possibly actually think that highly of him, as no one else even liked him.

Hannibal frowned at Will.

“Will, do you believe I would pay anyone a compliment they do not deserve?” He asked.

Will shrugged. He furrowed his brow in thought.

“I think you can be overly polite, especially when it comes to me. I just want you to know you don’t have to be so formal and... intentionally gratifying, I guess.”

Hannibal stopped his food preparation and set his hands on the counter. 

“Will, I want you to understand this,” he began, drawing Will’s gaze up to meet his own, “I truly admire the way your mind works. I want you to trust that I am honest with you.”

Will looked back down at the diced vegetables in front of him and nodded.

“Does it make you uncomfortable when I compliment you?” Hannibal asked.

Will shook his head, still not meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

“No, not really, but I think you should keep it to a minimum. Especially around other people, as we have a cover story that needs protecting for the time being.” He answered.

Hannibal nodded.

“Then I will do my utmost to refrain from endangering our cover.”

\---

Hannibal paused in the doorway of Will’s classroom. 

He was projecting a picture of Cassie Boyle’s crime scene on the wall. Hannibal worried briefly that Will hadn’t liked his gift, but he smiled when he heard what Will was saying.

“He wanted us to know he wasn’t the Minnesota Shrike. He was better than that,” Will said, “He is intelligent, most likely a psychopath, meaning he will probably never kill like this again. That makes him harder to catch.”

Will looked up at Hannibal briefly before he continued. He seemed to relax a touch at the sight of Hannibal, and that made Hannibal happy.

“The killer reads Tattlecrime.com, and had intimate knowledge of Hobbs’ crimes. He knew his motives and his patterns. He knew them well enough that he could elevate them, arguably, to art, and have it still recognizable as one of the Shrike’s crimes. At least to the untrained eye.”

Hannibal watched Will as he taught. The micro expressions and subtle movements that Will couldn’t control let Hannibal know what he wanted. Will wasn’t as upset by the murder as he wished himself to be. He wanted to be disgusted, but he wasn’t. 

When Will mentioned the phone call, Hannibal ran over what he had done. There was no way to trace the call back to him. 

Hannibal couldn’t help but grin when Will identified the copycat as the caller. 

Will was so clever.

\---

“He catches insane men because he can think like them,”

Freddie Lounds was talking about Will, and Hannibal’s blood boiled almost instantly when the door opened. He could see the silent rage bubble up inside Will as well, as he opened the door to Abigail’s room.

Will stopped just inside, giving Hannibal just enough room to close the door, but he didn’t. Freddie would be leaving soon enough.

“Because he is insane,” she finished, standing up from Abigail’s bed to face them.

Will was almost shaking with rage, and Hannibal placed a hand on his arm to calm him. It worked well enough, and Will took a deep breath.

“Excuse us,” he said curtly, taking a step further into the room and pulling his arm from Hannibal.

Freddie stepped away from the bed, but didn’t make to leave the room.

“I’m special agent Will Graham,” Will told Abigail, choosing to ignore Freddie for the moment.

“By ‘special agent’ he means not really an agent,” Freddie interrupted, turning back to Abigail, “He didn’t get past the screening process. Too unstable.”

Abigail looked like she was being torn two ways, unsure of who to trust. Will fixed Freddie with a cold look that Hannibal was glad to have never been a recipient of.

Hannibal stepped forward to intervene.

“I really must insist you leave the room,” he told Freddie, putting himself between her and Will. He fixed her with his own expression, though it was emotionless and steely.

“If you want to talk-” Freddie began, extending a card with her contact information on it.

She was interrupted by Will snatching the card before it could reach Abigail, and he slipped it into his coat pocket. Freddie left without another word, but she glanced back at Will and Abigail a few times, leaving Hannibal out of her imagined fight.

Will removed his glasses and held them nervously. He looked up at Abigail with a pained expression.

“Abigail, this is doctor Lecter,” He began, “Do you remember us?”

Abigail let her eyes flick to Hannibal for only a moment before she answered. 

“I remember you,” she said, “You killed my dad.”

Will’s shoulders tensed visibly from Hannibal’s vantage point, and he wished he could soothe him more. Will looked down at his shoes and swallowed.

“Why don’t we have a walk?” Hannibal suggested.

Everything seemed to be lining up well, he thought. Abigail remembered Will killing her dad, and she didn’t seem to be all too forgiving. She didn’t seem overly emotional, which was interesting, but she did show signs of trauma, and that was what Hannibal needed.


	14. Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All about Abigail

Jack was angry, but that suited Hannibal just fine. 

“It’s not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living. You know what else isn’t very smart?” He turned to Hannibal, “You were there with him, and you let those words come out of his mouth.”

Hannibal wanted to smile. The memory of Will saying it still fresh and pleasant in his mind.

“I trust Will to speak for himself.”

Will turned his head just a fraction more towards Hannibal, in an unconscious gesture.

“Evidently you shouldn’t.”

“I’m just glad the story wasn’t about Abigail Hobbs,” Alana piped in.

Jack was not happy with that response.

“Oh, then it’s a victory,” He snapped.

Will was increasingly uncomfortable, feeling the disappointment emanating off of Jack and the disapproval from Alana. He frequently shifted in his seat, unconsciously moving himself toward Hannibal with every movement.

Hannibal was pleased with the direction of the conversation, especially when he found a way to further his own plan.

“There is a scenario where returning to her home could be therapeutic, and even help prevent denial,” Hannibal offered. He knew Jack would take the bait. 

\---

“I don’t know what I expected,” Will said, outside Crawford’s office. 

He rubbed a hand across his forehead, furrowing his brow.

“I should never have said that to Freddie. I knew what she would do.”

Hannibal nodded. They walked together toward the parking lot.

“If I were merely your therapist, I would say you were too filled with emotion at the time to think clearly and filter your thoughts properly,” Hannibal said.

Will gave him an amused, but wary look over his shoulder.

“But, as someone who knows me…” He prompted.

“I think you wanted her to leave you alone,” Hannibal continued, a faint smile threatening to show, “and you wanted others to leave you alone as well. You didn’t take enough time to consider more options of how to do that, and you instinctively chose the path of least resistance. You made them afraid of you.”

Will grimaced, but nodded.

“Probably. I mean, most people are already afraid of me when they find out what I’m like. I guess it wasn’t too far of a leap to get to that point.”

Hannibal was very pleased. 

“It was a seemingly unwise decision in the moment, but I think it will likely be to your benefit in the future. It is simpler to have a reputation of someone to be avoided than it is to be sociable,” Hannibal offered.

Will met his eyes now, and his expression was of fascinated guilt.

“But you have a friendly reputation,” he pointed out.

Hannibal nodded.

“I have a reputation of being sociable and courteous,” he admitted, “But I confess I am also known for being a mostly solitary individual. I am not known for having many close friends.”

Will smiled to himself at this. He was aware of Hannibal’s ability to be likable while keeping his personal life mostly private. 

\---

Will was shaking, nervous and frightened. Abigail’s breaths were shallow and quick under the weight of his forearm as he pressed her to him. 

He whispered in her ear, trying to calm her and make her be still. It would all be over soon.

The stag watched, rustling feathers and clicking hooves.

 

Will woke with a start, covered in sweat.

Images of blood spraying and flowing over his hands flooded his brain and seeped into his mind like a venom. 

He shook and shivered, afraid and filled with adrenaline. 

His hand shot out and snatched his phone from the nightstand. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand had dialed Hannibal.

He almost ended the call when he realized how early it was. It was too early.

Hannibal answered before he had the chance.

“Hello, Will. Is something wrong?” He asked, his voice even and cool, despite the slight huskiness in his voice betraying that he had indeed been asleep.

“I had a dream. I shouldn’t have called you. It’s stupid,” Will was rambling. Why had he called Hannibal? 

“Will, tell me about the dream.”

Hannibal’s voice brought him back to reality. He sounded clearer and more focused, having lost the sleep from his voice.

“I-I uh, I killed Abigail,” he confessed, his voice was shaking and he rubbed a hand over his face. 

Hannibal hummed slightly on the other end. It sounded more curious than concerned or upset.

“Did you do it like her father would have?” he asked.

The images flashed through his mind again and Will wet his lips nervously.

“Yeah. I did. I did it the way he tried,” Will breathed the words, feeling a weight lift off his brain. 

Hannibal was silent for a moment, and Will knew he was considering the words.

“Did you reassure her?”

The words were a whisper, quiet and breathy. Will was almost convinced he had imagined them.

Will swallowed hard, trying to steady his shaking limbs.

“Yes.”

\---

“Do you have a place of safety in your life, Will?” Hannibal asked, hiding his concern behind professional curiosity.

Will shrugged, lifting his eyes to the ceiling in thought.

“Sometimes, at night, if I leave the lights on in my house and walk across the fields. I look back and it looks like a boat on the sea. I feel safe in those moments.”

Hannibal could picture it in his mind, a safe place created by openness and distance to reality. The comfort of disconnection.

“Do you think it’s because of your isolation, that you feel safe in those moments?” he inquired.

Will shook his head, meeting Hannibal’s eyes for a second before looking back down at the floor.

“There are some people I feel safe around. I don’t need to be alone, but it does help that no one wants anything from me when I am. No expectations. I don’t need to satisfy anyone but myself. And then the moment is over and the real world cuts through.”

Hannibal studied Will curiously. Will was truly a fascinating individual. 

“Do you endeavor to surround yourself with those you feel safe with?”

Will glanced up, almost guiltily, and bit his lip.

“There aren’t many,” he admitted, “but I don’t like to impose on them. So I don’t hang around too much.”

Hannibal nodded in understanding. He itched to ask. He wanted to know, but he knew it was intrusive. It would be like picking through Will’s mind, and Will hated that.

_ Am I one of them? _

He went with a safer, more professional route.

“Our recent visit to the Hobbes home. How did it feel to walk through the spaces you know Hobbes did?”

Will shifted in his seat.

“The air, uh, it spoke, with noise and clarity,” he said carefully, “stained with his actions.”

Hannibal looked intently at Will.

“You could sense his madness,” he marveled, “Like a bloodhound.”

Will grimaced, his nose wrinkling and shaking his head a bit.

“I tried so hard to know Hobbes,” he said, his voice stained with emotions. Pain, guilt, fear, and some underlying ones Hannibal couldn’t identify in the moment.

“To see him.”

There were a hundred words in the silence Will allowed. A thousand things he didn’t want to say, or couldn’t explain. Hannibal could hear them all. 

“You looked past the procedural static, and found the clear image of a killer,” Hannibal surmised.

Will didn’t move. He stared into the middle distance as if in a daze.

“How did you feel, seeing Marissa Schurr?”

Will jolted back to reality, his chin quivered for a moment as he met Hannibal’s gaze.

“Guilty.”

The way he said it and the expression of his face told Hannibal what he wanted to know. This was not survivor’s guilt, or a heroic guilt of having not been able to save her from the monsters. This was a deep understanding that he contained a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you have a question you want answered, I'm on tumblr, and I am more likely to respond if you ask me over there. I'm william-teddy-grahams over there, so feel free to send me an ask. I'm never sure if the comments are serious questions or just speculations, so if you really want to know, ask me on tumblr. Thanks.


	15. Mindful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost boys beginning and another dinner appointment.

A chorus of barking greeted Hannibal as he pulled up the drive to the house. 

He knew Will had dogs, but the number of snouts that met him at the door brought a chuckled up his throat. Will was a sucker for strays.

He knew they would be well trained, as Will had never been one to half-do things when it came to dogs.

Hannibal fed them bits of sausage and allowed them to sniff about him as he made his way through the house. 

Will certainly didn’t care for taking up more space than he must. He had the main room of the ground floor made up like an apartment, and Hannibal could guess the majority of the other rooms were empty. 

The fly tying desk interested him. Will had always been interested in fishing and everything that entailed, but Hannibal had never had the pleasure of seeing any of his work. This gave him a look at the more artistic side of Will, that Will would deny he even possessed. The flies were beautiful, and carefully crafted. 

Hannibal felt as if he were treading where he shouldn’t, but it gave him a feeling nearing giddiness as he sat and finished the fly that was currently set up. 

He carefully wove himself into every corner of Will’s mind, and now his home. 

\---

Will stared at the blanketed forms on the tables.

He wasn’t really listening to the conversation going on, as it didn’t seem all that interesting. His gaze shot up, though, when Zeller spoke to him.

“Let me guess, only child?” he surmised.

Will wanted to snarl at him. He knew what Zeller was implying, and he didn’t really like it when people looked at him like a puzzle. He didn’t need to be figured out. Not by them.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, not really feeling the need to clarify, but feeling it was the expected response.

Zeller shrugged as he responded.

“Family friction is a catalyst for personality development,” he replied.

Beverly started talking after that, relieving Will from having to continue down that path. He couldn’t help the bitter thoughts that bubbled to the surface of his mind.

Family friction indeed. They assumed the lack of discourse in his family was the reason behind his unsociable nature. How very clever of them.

“Middle is the sweet spot,” Zeller declared with pride.

Will didn’t bother hiding the sneer in his voice when he piped in again.

“Always trying to figure out where they fit in.”

It was a jab at Zeller, not even subtle. Will felt it was only fair for his comment earlier.

“They can be great, uh, politicians,” he noted, aware of the amused look Beverly gave him at his next jibe, “Or lousy ones.”

Will was almost sorry for his comments when Jack handed him the picture. The mother was killed by her own damn son. He could see it in her eyes. He hated what he was seeing, and what he thought. 

Jack wasn’t too happy about it either, if his look was anything to go by, and it always was.

\---

“Zeller thinks I am personality deficient,” Will declared sarcastically, “Due to lack of friction in my family dynamic.”

Hannibal smiled.

“The hypothesis of someone with few actual facts pertaining to the subject,” he observed, “Why do you think he chose to say such a thing to you?”

Will huffed in amusement.

“You would know if you had to work with him as much as I do now,” he stated, “He doesn’t like me. He never really has.”

Hannibal thought this was as good a path of conversation as any.

“Why do you think that is?”

Will rubbed at his chin as he sat back in the chair, a smile flickering across his face.

“I unsettle him,” he said, “I think he may be scared of me. Not that he would admit it to my face. He likes to  poke fun at things that frighten him, in an effort to soften the fear, I think.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I suspect you are correct. People often find unconventional ways to deal with stress. This can include using humor to distract from it or hide it. Do you have an effective way to deal with your stress?”

Will blinked in surprise, but it turned to a chuckle as he shook his head.

“And I thought we were just having conversations,” he said, “You’re still a psychiatrist, deep down, though. Are you curious, or concerned?”

Hannibal didn’t bother lying.

“A bit of both,” he admitted, “Though I do think it would benefit you to gain some therapeutic value from our meetings. We do have a cover story to consider, after all.”

Will nodded in consideration.

“I handle it well enough,” he said.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, but decided to save that topic for a later day.

“How are you handling the case of this family?”

Will relaxed a bit, clearly grateful for the change of subject.

“I’m having a hard time connecting,” he admitted, “These people lived like they had money. I don’t think they have ever lived anywhere other than their home. The closest thing the children knew to moving was going on vacation, I think.”

Hannibal tipped his head to the side.

“So what was the motivation for killing them?” He asked.

Will’s brow furrowed and his frown quivered in uncertainty.

“Family,” he said, “I know this, but I can’t back it up, so I haven’t told Jack. The mother was killed by her missing son.”

Hannibal was surprised by this.

“His idea of motherhood drove him to kill his family?” Hannibal asked.

Will shook his head adamantly, his face growing more frustrated and upset.

“Not his,” he clarified, “I don’t know. It’s, it’s like it’s someone else's, but in his head. This wasn’t revenge for bad parenting. It was corruption.”

Hannibal was silent, allowing Will to sort out his thoughts if need be.

Will looked up after a moment, regret creasing his features.

“Are you going to talk to Jack about this?” he asked.

Hannibal hummed in thought.

“I am under no legal obligation to keep our meetings confidential,” he confessed, “But I think he would not begrudge it if I left you some privacy at least. And, of course, he cannot force me to divulge anything.”

Will breathed in relief at that and his head tilted back to rest on the back of the chair.

Hannibal watched him.

Little did Will know, Hannibal had other reasons for keeping their conversations to himself. He hated the thought of someone so clumsy and abrasive bumbling around in Will’s mind. 

The only one he wanted in Will’s mind was himself.

\---

“Will seems haunted today,” Jacked pretended to notice.

Hannibal wanted to tell Jack to mind his own business, but instead he settled for a friendly smile.

“The case you have him working on is not a subject of the lightest caliber,” he said, trying to add a note of finality that would deter Jack from pursuing the subject further.

“Will has been in worse minds,” Jack tried, “and children killing is not unfamiliar to him.”

Hannibal knew what he meant with the comment. He was insinuating that Abigail was guilty of killing, as much as her father. 

“Children can represent a simpler time of life,” Hannibal replied, choosing not to defend Abigail at that point in time, “one that many can use as an anchor in this time. Will needs an anchor more than most.”

Jack met his gaze. He clearly understood what was being said, but was trying to find the deeper meaning to the words. Hannibal knew he was gleaning all the wrong things from it, but he didn’t need to correct him just then.

\---

Will was not surprised when Jack stormed into his lecture hall, but he was mildly annoyed. 

“You’re making it hard to provide an education, Jack,” Will said softly.

Jack didn’t even bother to look at him.

“We found a match to a set of prints in the Turner home,” he said, “They belong to a thirteen year old boy from Reston, Virginia.” 

\---

“Hannibal Lecter,” came the voice on the other end of the phone.

Will felt relieved to hear his voice, despite himself.

“Hey,” he said in return.

“Will,” he sounded pleased, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Will’s hands were shaking as he spoke.

“I need someone to talk to, but I would prefer in person. When are you free?”

Hannibal hummed for a moment.

“I have two more appointments today, but they get over at four. May I invite you to dinner again? I think that would be the most convenient.”

Will sighed in relief.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds great. See you then?”

Hannibal must have been smiling when he responded. Will could hear it in his voice.

“See you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting really close to a chapter that I really like, myself. I just hope you guys can be patient with me as we work toward it.   
> As always, feel free to talk to me on tumblr if you have a question, or if you just want to talk. I'm always open.


	16. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner conversations and family relationships

“I hope I don’t ruin your appetite,” Will said as an apology as Hannibal prepared their meal.

“I have never experienced any topic of conversation that could make me no longer enjoy a well cooked meal,” Hannibal replied, looking up from his preparations, “Though I recognize this is uncommon.”

Will shrugged.

“I’ve gotten used to this kind of conversation topic. It doesn’t really affect my appetite either.”

Hannibal smiled as he looked back down at the food.

Will had not offered to help, nor had Hannibal asked him to. Hannibal seemed aware that his head was too busy to be very useful with cooking, but that suited them both fine.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Will said after a pause, “You cook for me, but I can’t offer to do anything for you in return.”

Hannibal chuckled.

“You allow me to see into your mind without the hindrance of a disguise or veil. The least I can do after such a gesture is to provide you with a few proper meals.”

Will laughed at this, the sound deep in his throat.

“And yet I still feel like I owe you,” he said.

Hannibal did not reply. A comfortable silence fell between them as Will watched him work.

Hannibal had never been very thin when they were in school together, but Will could see he was well muscled now. Will wondered what kind of activity he did that provided him with that type of exercise. His psychiatric work definitely didn’t

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked when the plates were ready.

Will followed him to the dining room and they sat to eat.

“Now. What is it that you need to speak with me about?” Hannibal asked.

Will swallowed nervously.

“We found another family,” he said.

Hannibal stilled his movements, studying Will.

“Tell me about it,” he said. The words were not a command, more a request.

“This time it didn’t go so well,” Will explained, “The boy couldn’t contain his emotions. He had to watch his mother suffer. He wasn’t prepared for that. We found his body. Whoever killed him, they disowned him. It was a complete separation from him.”

Will’s thoughts came out in a disorganized jumble, but Hannibal nodded in understanding.

“So the boys are being pushed to action from an outside force,” Hannibal observed, “Do you know what kind?”

Will spread his hands, his eyes unfocused, but sharp.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, “It has to be someone with authority, at least in their minds. Someone they would listen to instinctually. Someone to be naturally trusted.”

They were both mostly silent for the rest of the meal, Will being lost in thought, and Hannibal allowing Will to navigate as he needed.

\---

“We found another boy,” Will said into the phone.

“Another body?” Hannibal asked.

“No. This is a boy that has been missing. His mother was killed six months after he disappeared. He’s older. Jack thinks he’s the one.”

Hannibal hummed.

“And you?”

Will sighed.

“He doesn’t fit. I know it looks like a good match, and Jack will see it like that. He does see it like that. It just doesn’t work for me.”

“Will, think about what you already know. Why doesn’t he fit?”

Hannibal’s voice was clear, almost as if it was coming from within Will’s mind. He snapped back to focus when he realized the words were real, coming from Hannibal.

“I figured it out,” he said suddenly, “I’m sorry. Talk later. I have to see Jack.”

Will rushed to Jack’s office to tell him what he knew. 

A mother figure. 

\---

Hannibal was mildly disappointed by the end of the phone call. He could almost hear the moment when Will had put the pieces together. He sighed as he put the phone down and checked the time.

He only had a few minutes before his next appointment, but he had Will’s appointment to anticipate at the end of the day. 

He would find out what Will had discovered at that point. 

\---

Hannibal opened the door with a smile and Will returned it with only slight hesitation, and it faded quickly as he walked in with a mumbled greeting.

Hannibal saw the wrapped package as Will tossed his bag onto the couch and shucked off his coat with pleasant familiarity.

“Who is the gift for, Will?” He asked with gentle curiosity.

Will glanced down at the parcel and grimaced.

“It was for Abigail,” he admitted as he tossed his coat onto the couch next to his bag.

Hannibal walked forward as Will turned away and approached the desk.

“Was?” he asked.

Will glanced back, his movements shaky and forced.

“I was upset when I bought it. I probably still am. I thought better of it.”

Hannibal watched as Will began fiddling with the things on his desk.

“What did you buy for her, Will?” he asked.

Will set the letter opener down back where he had found it. He rubbed his face and huffed a breath.

“A magnifying glass. Fly tying gear,” he said, an underlying bitterness coloring his words.

Hannibal nodded.

“You would like to teach her to fish,” he observed thoughtfully.

Hannibal walked up closer to Will with a tilt to his head, encouraging Will to speak.

Will didn’t meet his eyes, instead straightening the things on the desk he had been fiddling with.

“Her father taught her how to hunt,” Will stated, “So I thought better of it. She doesn’t want me to replace her dad, especially by reminding her of him like that.”

Hannibal hummed. Will may be correct, and Hannibal was not going to encourage him to strengthen his attachment to the girl, but he would be supportive in whatever Will decided to do.

“Come, sit,” Hannibal bid, touching Will’s elbow and gesturing to the chairs.

Will hesitated, not pulling away from Hannibal’s touch for a moment before he nodded and took his seat.

“I feel this most recent case has been contributing to your paternal urges, Will. What may have triggered this response today?”

Hannibal took his seat across from Will and studied him intently. Will had his hands on the armrests, probably to keep himself in the present moment, a grounding sensation. He was staring at the floor and emotions swept through his eyes in undulating waves.

Guilt was the predominant one.

“It’s a mother figure,” He said at last, “The lost boys. Jack thought we were looking for Peter Pan, but we were all wrong. A mother figure is who teaches them to kill their biological families. She wants them to love her with everything they have, and so she has them burn the bridges of their life before her.”

Hannibal gave a small nod of understanding and Will’s eyes flicked up to his for a moment before he sighed and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling.

“She creates her own family, and tells them that they are creating theirs. She considers this to be a more genuine bond than their real families,” Will continued.

Hannibal tipped his head slightly.

“You have created a family of sorts for yourself,” Hannibal noted, “do you find that you agree with her, somewhat?”

Will grimaced, meeting Hannibal’s gaze.

“Are you talking about my dogs, or about Abigail Hobbes?” he asked, uncertain, but with a note of clarity in his voice as if he knew what the answer would be.

Hannibal ached to correct him on both counts, that Abigail was only part of the family and the dogs another, but that he had been including himself in his metaphor. 

“I was referring to Abigail Hobbes,” he said, a half truth that rolled naturally off his tongue, but left a sour taste.

Will nodded, seemingly disappointed with that answer as well. He looked away again and seemed like he was trying to focus on something in the distance.

“So that’s why I bought the present,” he said flatly, “I know that, when we find these boys, I can’t fix them. I can’t bring back what they allowed themselves to destroy. I can’t help them.”

“But you can help Abigail,”

The corners of Will’s mouth twitched in a half grimace.

“Maybe.”


	17. Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost boys

“Hell, Hannibal, I can’t make it,” Will said bitterly through the phone, “Jack has us combing files, and when we find the next kid, he’s going to make us all go after them. Jack isn’t going to let me leave.”

Hannibal hummed in displeasure. Jack was certainly making things difficult. 

“Jack would be even less inclined to allow you to leave if he knew who you would be dining with,” he observed, glancing over at Abigail, “I understand, Will. You will be missed.”

Will huffed a mumbled reply before hanging up the phone.

Hannibal put the phone down and sighed. He watched Abigail from the corner of his eye, noting that the mushrooms were doing their work already. 

He would set a place for Will at the table all the same. Just in case.

\---

Will called and he was laughing, but Hannibal knew he was terrified.

“Will, has something happened?” Hannibal asked with concern.

“I-” he laughed again, the fear souring his tone, “I almost got shot by a kid.”

Hannibal frowned.

“Will, are you alright?”

The laughs became garbled, almost becoming sobs, and Hannibal cursed the distance between them. Will was afraid, and all alone.

“I’m fine. The kid didn’t fire. Everyone is alright. Well, except the crazy mom. God, Hannibal, why can’t I just have a normal life?”

Will must have been extremely frightened to have said something like that. As long as Hannibal had known him, he had only wished for normalcy when he was frightened or angry. Will was probably feeling plenty of both emotions at this time.

“Will, can you tell me what happened?” Hannibal asked, “Or would it be more helpful if I tried to distract you?”

Will took a few calming breaths, each one catching a bit from his lingering fear. His voice was shaking when he replied.

“We found the kids,” he said, “we made it in time to stop them this time. The woman tried to get Christopher to shoot me when I ran after him. I couldn’t trust my aim, I couldn’t risk taking a shot and hitting the kid rather than her. I was stupid. Beverly took the shot. God, I can’t think straight.”

“Will, it’s alright. You are safe, which is what is important now. You managed to save him, it was you who gave him back his family. You helped him,” Hannibal soothed, “Will. You have saved the boys. You have done everything you can. You are safe, and they are safe.”

Will choked out a laugh, bitterly.

“He will never be the same,” he bit out, “None of them will.”

“And that is not your fault. You could only save him from this, and you did. You did everything you could,” Hannibal tried desperately to reassure Will while keeping his tone calm and even. 

Will sighed, and Hannibal could picture him leaning his head back to rest on whatever he was sitting against. He would close his eyes and his curls would fall almost out of his face, a few lingering on his brow.

“I think I want you to distract me now,” he said.

Hannibal hummed an agreement.

“Would you like to hear how dinner went?” he asked.

“Oh god, I think that would be good. Maybe I can imagine I was there and not have to feel guilty about it anymore,” Will chuckled.

Hannibal smiled. No doubt Will’s imagination could do just that, if he truly wished. He had incredible visual skills.

“Alana showed up as I was setting the table,” He said.

Will laughed, a genuine, joyful laugh.

“I bet she was thrilled to find that you had abducted her patient,” he said.

“Yes, she was livid. I managed to convince her that I was repentant, though I think I may have bruised my dignity from the amount of patronizing that was required.”

Will was laughing freely now, and Hannibal relished the sound. Will had such a clear and lovely laugh, Hannibal wished he was relaxed enough to laugh more often.

“What did Abigail do when she showed up?” Will asked.

“Ah, I had given her a slight sedative, to aid in the reparation of her traumatic memories, so she was mostly unaffected. I would have enjoyed it much more if you had been there, and I think she would have as well.”

Will’s laugh softened at that.

“Oh, I think she was probably glad I couldn’t come. She isn’t very comfortable around me, and everyone likes Alana. Besides, if I had been there, I wouldn’t get this thrilling retelling from you,” Will said, his voice catching on his lingering laugh.

Hannibal hummed. Will really did have a tendency to look on the bad side of things when it had to do with himself.

“You were greatly missed,” Hannibal said, “though I am glad the tale could lighten your spirits so well.”

Will chuckled.

“Yeah, I need to get driving now,” he said reluctantly, “Thanks for distracting me. I know it probably wasn’t the best time.”

Hannibal looked down at his sketch with a smile.

“Not at all, Will. You know you are always welcome to interrupt whatever I may be doing. You needn’t apologize for calling.”

Will stared up from the paper, blood spattered across his face and smeared up his arms. He looked to Hannibal with fierce hope and startled, adrenaline fueled euphoria after having killed Hobbs. 

“Alright, see you soon,” Will said, ending the call before Hannibal could respond. Hannibal was used to that from Will, who felt awkward ending phone calls.

Hannibal put his phone down and looked over his sketch, looking for details that needed to be corrected. Will deserved perfect accuracy, and every second it would cost to achieve it.


	18. Morning Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, more torture for you readers. I would apologize, but I should use those sparingly. You would get tired of it eventually.

Will watched Hannibal use his excessively fancy coffee contraption with a grace only Hannibal could have while in a bathrobe and sleepwear. 

“Is it safe to assume you are not sleepwalking now?” Hannibal asked passively.

Will chuckled. He ran a hand over his face. He felt as if he still had a deep chill from when he had woken up in the road that morning. He knew it couldn’t still be from that, but he hated the thought of addressing it as the looming dread it was.

“Sorry it’s so early, Hannibal,” Will said guiltily, “But I do think I am awake this time.”

Hannibal smiled warmly.

“You have come to me in less convenient times,” he reminded, and Will ducked his head in embarrassment at the memory, “I do not mind. You needn’t apologize, as I said, you are always welcome.”

Will scratched the back of his neck, avoiding meeting Hannibal’s sincere gaze. 

“So, what do you think caused this?” Will asked, referring back to the sleepwalking incident.

Hannibal looked back to the coffee he was preparing before handing a glass to Will and answering.

“As you know, onset of sleepwalking in adulthood is less common than in children,” he said.

Will grimaced, knowing that Hannibal wasn’t going to just diagnose him. He liked it to be a conversation.

“Could it be a seizure?” he asked.

Hannibal tipped his head in consideration, his way of politely telling Will he was being silly.

“I think post traumatic stress is more likely,” he said.

Hannibal walked around the counter to stand next to Will. Will turned and leaned on the counter, feeling tired from his strange night.

Hannibal leaned forward almost imperceptibly and breathed in.

Will laughed.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I forgot you did that,” he chuckled, “smell anything on me, Doctor?”

Hannibal’s brow creased in concern for a second, making Will question whether he had actually seen it or not.

“Perhaps,” Hannibal replied, “Tell me Will, how are your headaches? Have you been fevering recently?”

Will bit his lip and looked down at his coffee. Hannibal could be infuriating, but he probably had smelled something. 

“So that’s a no, on the post traumatic stress?” Will joked, taking a drink to avoid answering the question.

Hannibal pressed his lips together.

“Jack has gotten your hands dirty,” he replied, “after he manipulated you back into the field.”

Will frowned.

“I wasn’t forced back into the field,” he said.

Hannibal sighed.

“I did not say forced,” he replied, “I chose my words carefully.”

Will scoffed.

“I can handle getting my hands dirty, Hannibal,” he defended.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows.

“You certainly cannot, if you refuse to tell me when you have been feeling ill. Answer my question, please, Will.”

Will sighed.

“I take Aspirin for the headaches, and I can work through them. I’m fine,” he said.

Hannibal hummed.

“And the fever?”

Will looked up guiltily.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I don’t take my temperature very often. I tend to run hot, but I don’t know if I have been fevering.”

Hannibal nodded, taking a step forward and entering Will’s personal space. He set his cup on the counter beside Will and raised his hand up to feel Will’s forehead.

“You are warm, Will,” he said, turning his hand over to feel with the back of it, “We should take your temperature now.”

Will reluctantly agreed and Hannibal walked to a cupboard to retrieve a thermometer.

Will allowed Hannibal to take his temperature for him, feeling numb and distant. He was only vaguely aware of Hannibal’s hand on his jaw, adjusting it as he placed the thermometer under his tongue.

Hannibal was clearly disappointed in Will, and the thought made Will want to squirm like a nervous toddler. Hannibal was the one person who could make him actually feel sorry for disappointing him. For everyone else, he just considered it an opportunity for them to learn from their mistakes.

“You have a slight fever,” Hannibal stated, removing the thermometer and dragging Will back to reality.

“Oh, so, uh, what now?” Will asked, unsure what Hannibal was trying to prove or disprove.

“I think you may have encephalitis,” Hannibal stated, returning the thermometer to its place.

Will couldn’t move. 

How in hell did Hannibal already have such a specific theory? Was it the smell thing? Hell, what was he going to do?

“Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will snapped his head up and met Hannibal’s concerned gaze again.

“I know a neurologist that will be able to help,” he offered, “I can set you an appointment if you like.”

Will smiled shakily, feeling the full weight of everything in that moment.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, nodding slowly, “that would be great. What gave it away?”

Hannibal nodded, moving around the kitchen to put things back in order.

“Your scent,” he said, confirming Will’s suspicion, “there is an undercurrent of fevered sweetness.”

Will laughed despite himself. Everything about this was comically absurd.

“So that’s what encephalitis smells like?” he asked, “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of smell is creepy?”

Hannibal smiled absently.

“I believe you did,” he replied.

“Damn right,” Will laughed.

\---

Will kept his breathing even and repeated Hannibal’s words in his mind as reassurance.

_ “Jack needn’t know if we take care of it promptly.” _

Of course, the agreement to keep it quiet had come with the condition that Will take better care of himself, as well as keep Hannibal updated on any developments of his condition. Will had grumbled and complained, but they had both known he was ultimately going to agree.

Oh, brilliant, this guy made his victims into angels. This was going to be a fun case.

Will lay on the bed, looking past his feet at the praying figures. Time reversed and their wings retracted. 

Jack had been right to question whether this was the Chesapeake Ripper. This was a desperate act of defense, at least in the mind of the killer. Angels to watch over him while he slept, exalting them from their fallen state to allow him to sleep safely.

The Ripper would never.

The vomit on the nightstand was a concern, Will puzzled over it as he lay with his eyes closed. This killer was not nervous or disturbed by what he had done, there was no reason he should be feeling ill afterwards. He must actually have something wrong with him to cause him to be physically ill.

Will felt as if his mind was clicking, like gears that didn’t quite fit together, but still ran as well. Then they matched up and a much more clear click echoed in his mind when he opened his eyes.

“Jack, this one is afraid of dying,” He stated, rolling off the bed onto his feet. He looked at Beverly, who listened to him more than anyone else. “He has a terminal illness. The vomit, he’s close to the end, but he’s afraid.”

Beverly was already collecting a sample from the nightstand and gave Will an understanding nod as she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I'm a huge liar, and I totally am starting to answer the comments on these. when they are fun enough that I want to reply. I love hearing what you guys think, so feel free to tell me anything or ask me anything. I won't spoil anything huge, but I will probably reply. Thanks for reading, and I hope you are enjoying it.


	19. Great Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a conversation

Hannibal was glad to see Will, even when Will was so clearly distressed. 

“So the guy has a brain tumor,” Will explained, “he’s afraid of dying in his sleep. He creates angels to watch over him, but I don’t think I can profile a guy who’s thinking is being continually changed by something in his head.”

Hannibal thought that an amusing way of putting it, them both knowing that Will was dealing with something similar at that time. He looked over the railing at Will curiously.

“Do you feel your thinking is being changed by what’s in your head, Will?” he asked. 

It would be interesting to find out if Will could sense the subtle changes in himself. 

Will grimaced, as if he hadn’t wanted to be reminded of his own looming health problems.

“Oh, sorry,” he said sharply, “I forgot you’re my Doctor. No. I don’t find that I am thinking differently, thank you.”

He had snapped at Hannibal, betraying his fear. He was afraid of not only the illness he had, but also the changes it may cause in himself.

“Will, I did not mean any harm by the question,” Hannibal soothed, “but I see you are worried, so I will not pry.”

Will sighed, collapsing into the chair he normally occupied. He rubbed his hands over his face and into his hair, making it an unruly mass of curls.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I just can’t afford to have this kind of thing happening to me right now. Jack needs me to be at my best.”

Hannibal hummed in displeasure, selecting a few books from the shelves that Will might find helpful.

“Jack expects a lot from you, Will. Why do you think that is?”

Will huffed a laugh and leaned forward, putting his elbows to his knees and holding his head in his hands.

“I think everyone expects a lot from me, but maybe not as much as they could. You know I can do this, Hannibal. You know that better than anyone. Are you trying to make me quit?”

Hannibal descended the ladder and walked past Will to set the books on his desk.

“If you would rather not talk about this now,” Hannibal offered, “we can return to the case.”

Will sighed in relief, standing and coming over to stand by Hannibal and look over the books.

“Good. Yeah, let’s get on with the case please.”

Hannibal nodded, turning the books open to help guide Will to the relevant information.

“You said this killer is afraid,” he prodded.

Will lifted his head and stared over Hannibal’s shoulder at the wall. His gaze was distant and sharp, as if watching a gladiator match in his mind’s eye.

“He feels abandoned,” he said.

Hannibal couldn’t help but ask the next question. He wanted to know, more than he wanted to avoid annoying Will.

“Do you ever feel abandoned?”

Will focused, zeroing his gaze on Hannibal’s. They were only feet apart, and Hannibal could smell the illness on him. He hoped his state of mind would only increase his honesty in that moment.

“Abandonment requires expectation,” Will stated bitterly, “So you really want to know if I expect anything that I am then disappointed with?”

His jaw was set and there was a distant pain in his eyes, and Hannibal couldn’t discern where it was directed. 

Hannibal nodded silently, assenting that Will could answer for that as well.

Will turned back to the books, flipping through the pages without reading them, but making a good show of being interested in what they had to say.

“Not anymore,” he said, “I don’t allow myself expectations, and I haven’t for a long time.”

Hannibal felt as if the words had cut into his chest so as to look at his heart. He knew Will too well to think that he was not a part of why. 

Will had relied on their exchanging of letters for years. Hannibal knew that. Clearly, their loss of contact had taken more of a toll on Will than he had expected.

But there had to be more to it. Will was too strong of a person to let only that be what destroyed his trust for others.

“Jack said he would help you protect your head space,” Hannibal remarked, “and yet he leaves you to your own devices. No doubt he would have disappointed any expectations, had you allowed yourself them.”

Will huffed a laugh.

“He leaves me to my own devices, and your care,” he retorted, glancing up, “he’s doing the best he can to let me work how I need.”

Hannibal pressed his lips together. Will was stubborn when he was completely in his right mind. This illness was already making him less agreeable, and even less reasonable.

“If your angel maker were a classic schizophrenic, especially of the paranoid margin, you may be able to influence him,” He said, changing the subject, “perhaps even get him to hurt or reveal himself.”

Will picked up his coffee and took a large swig. It had likely cooled off and was now only serving as a source of caffeine.

“But he’s not,” Will observed, “He’s not self destructive. He made himself guardian angels. His thinking is changing all the time. I can’t predict it any more than I can influence it.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Then Jack cannot blame you for your struggles,” he said, “you are doing all you can, but there are things even beyond you.”

Will frowned down at his shoes. His brow furrowed in disdain. He clearly didn’t like the thought of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty uneventful, but I promise next chapter is really exciting. I hope you all enjoy.


	20. Friendly Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brain scan and super fun times

Hannibal was quiet in the driver's seat. Will wasn’t sure if he was glad for the silence, or hating it. It provided him time to think, but he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. He was left trying to distract himself from where they were going.

Hannibal had offered to drive him to the appointment, explaining that he would like to see his old acquaintance, and it would give him some peace of mind to be there for the results.

The doctor seemed friendly and smart, but he seemed fairly uninterested in Will himself.

“Thanks for getting me in so short notice,” Will mumbled apologetically.

The doctor waved it away.

“Doctor Lecter has done me plenty of favors in the past, it was no trouble.”

Will still felt guilty as he offered his payment method.

“Oh, didn’t doctor Lecter tell you?” the doctor asked curiously, “I’m doing this free of charge for you. In exchange, I’m invited to his next dinner party. It’s well worth it.”

The overly friendly smile he was directing at Will made it obvious he knew Will had never been to one. 

Will felt annoyance trickle down his spine. This man thought he was just some poor patient of Hannibal’s, and was flaunting his connection.

“Hannibal likes to show off,” Will agreed, feeling a bit petty for the comment, but not guilty, “Thanks anyway. I really appreciate you helping me out.”

The doctor pressed his lips together, clearly unsure of what Will was getting at.

Will was ushered into the room with the testing equipment and he laid on the table they showed him to. He felt awkward and exposed in the hospital gown, but he was glad to be alone for the time being. 

When the scan was over and Will was back in his clothes, he was shown into a room where Hannibal and the doctor were looking at a few screens. Hannibal smiled at Will when he entered, but the doctor had clearly been filled in about their true relationship and refused to even turn his way.

“Hannibal, were you right?” Will asked hesitantly.

Hannibal gestured to the screen that showed a scanned image of a brain Will guessed was his.

“There is inflammation in the right hemisphere,” he said and paused to let it sink in, “Yes. It is encephalitis.”

Will flexed his shoulders, feeling relieved. He hadn’t admitted it, but he had hoped the problem was physical and not mental. He hadn’t wanted to admit he might be going crazy.

The doctor explained curtly the treatments he would be given and how soon to expect improvement. Will listened, but he knew Hannibal would already have it all written down to make sure Will did as he was told.

Hannibal and Will thanked the doctor in turn, and made their way back out.

In the parking lot, Will chewed on his lip before he called Hannibal out.

“Now I owe you even more,” he accused, “are you just planning to increase my debt until you own me?”

Hannibal smiled, amused by the thought.

“I know you would have left your condition unchecked if it were not for me, and it clearly didn’t cost me anything, so I took the liberty of calling in a favor.”

Will frowned. He didn’t necessarily want to, but he felt a little upset that he hadn’t been invited to the dinner party that Hannibal was clearly planning. He wondered if Hannibal thought he was unfit company for such a thing.

“Of course, you may repay me the favor by attending a dinner I am hosting in two weeks,” Hannibal said, as if reading Will’s mind, “I would greatly like you to be there.”

Will stopped walking. He was thinking too much. Nothing was making sense.

“Will?” Hannibal said.

His voice was distant and distorted, like he was speaking underwater. Will’s hands were shaking, and he felt like he was burning up. He gave Hannibal a fearful look before his mind went dark.

\---

Will was sitting at Hannibal’s table. 

Hannibal made him some tea, knowing Will would prefer coffee, but he made the executive decision to override his preferences on behalf of his health. 

Will had been feverish when Hannibal coaxed him into the car. Hannibal had picked up his medication and brought him back to his house. Will had seemed fairly conscious, but far less lucid than Hannibal would have liked.

Setting the cup in front of Will, Hannibal checked his temperature again. He was slowly cooling down, and Hannibal sighed.

He placed the first dose of his medication next to the cup and sat around the corner from Will.

“Drink,” he instructed.

Will blinked at him, but obediently picked up the cup and took a swallow.

Hannibal nodded in satisfaction.

“Now take your medicine. It will make you better.”

Will placed the pill on his tongue and swallowed. Hannibal nodded again and stood.

“When you come back to yourself, I will be in the kitchen.”

He wasn’t completely sure whether or not Will would remember any of that when he did come back, but he thought it was better to let him know where to find him than just leave him to his own devices.

Hannibal walked into the kitchen and began preparing their dinner. Will would be staying for at least long enough to eat, Hannibal was sure. 

As he was putting the finishing touches on their plates, Will walked into the kitchen.

“Are you feeling yourself, Will?” Hannibal asked casually, hoping beyond hope that Will was lucid.

Will cleared his throat.

“I don’t remember how I got here,” he confessed miserably.

Hannibal nodded.

“I thought as much. Don’t worry, I have been with you the entire time. You have not done anything you will come to regret. You have also taken your first dose of your medication.”

Will took a sharp breath in. He was leaning against the counter, his head bowed in exhaustion. 

“I remember leaving the hospital,” he said cautiously.

Hannibal hummed in agreement.

“As we were in the parking lot, you seemed to dissociate. I took care to make sure you safely made it here. You should be feeling much better in time to attend the dinner I am hosting if you take your medication responsibly.”

Will visibly relaxed, possibly having been questioning whether or not he had actually been invited. He sighed, and was clearly having a difficult time keeping his eyes open.

Hannibal led him back to the table and had him sit down.

“I will let you use my guest room tonight,” He said, “but first, you really should eat. The medication may upset your stomach if you don’t.”

Will nodded. 

Hannibal set their plates down and made sure Will had at least the energy to eat before he allowed himself to.

Will ate everything on his plate and seemed to be feeling slightly better after he finished.

Hannibal helped him up from his seat and checked his temperature again. It was normal, making Hannibal allow himself to relax a margin.

“I have to go home,” Will said, “I have to take care of the dogs.”

Hannibal shook his head.

“I have already called Alana. I hope you don’t mind, but you are in no state to be driving. She will take care of them for tonight, and you will be able to go home in the morning.”

Will slumped forward, his head pressing against Hannibal’s shoulder. He mumbled something resembling a thank you, but it was muffled and soft.

Hannibal all but carried Will up to the room and sat him on the bed. He pulled out some spare sleepwear and set it on the bed next to him.

“Will, I will leave you now. Please get some rest,” Hannibal said carefully.

Will smiled up at him and nodded lazily. He put his hand on the clothes and started to stand as Hannibal left the room.

Hannibal shut the door behind himself and breathed.

Will was making him far too soft. He was becoming lazy and comfortable.

He put on his coat and headed out, locking the doors behind him. The sleeping aid he had put in Will’s tea would keep him sleeping for at least long enough for Hannibal to get some more meat for the upcoming dinner.

His greatest source of inspiration was back in his life, after all, so he had no true excuse to avoid such things.


	21. Blurry Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another body! Yay!

Will woke up with a start, looking blearily around at the unfamiliar room. 

His phone was ringing. 

That’s what had woken him up.

Will looked around in a near panic, trying to find his phone. He had no idea where he was, but he needed his phone. 

He found it on the bedside table and picked it up on its last ring.

“Graham,” he said groggily.

“Will, I need you here as fast as you can. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll send you the address.”

Jack hung up the phone unceremoniously, and Will sighed. He was being called in to work. That meant there was a body, and an interesting one at that.

He was in Hannibal’s house. That’s why he didn’t recognize anything. He had blacked out, and Hannibal had called Alana to take care of the dogs, and had put something in the tea Will had taken. Will could tell now, there had definitely been a sleep aid in the tea, but he absolutely didn’t hold it against Hannibal at that point. Will had not been right yesterday.

Will got up and found some of Hannibal’s more casual clothes left on a chair for him. He sighed, knowing he had sweated enough the day before that his clothes would not be wearable for the second day in a row. 

He slipped into the clothes and found that they weren’t actually too much bigger than he was. They certainly were not tailored for him, but none of his clothes were, so likely no one would notice.

It was a sweater and jeans, which Will hadn’t even known Hannibal owned jeans. The sweater was red, and much softer than it looked. Probably made from something expensive, Will thought.

When he opened the door, Will could smell food cooking. 

Hannibal was going to feed him again. Will felt a pang of guilt at remembering that Hannibal seemed to cook for Will more than Will cooked for himself.

Walking down the stairs, Hannibal came into view, and Will felt himself relax at the sight, as if he had worried Hannibal wouldn’t be there.

Hannibal was just dishing two portions of a protein scramble out when he caught sight of Will.

He smiled brightly and welcomed Will into the kitchen warmly.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He asked.

Will leaned against an unused counter and shrugged.

“I didn’t have any nightmares last night, though I bet you knew I wouldn’t. Whatever you gave me really did the trick. I feel pretty good, despite my encephalitis.”

Hannibal smirked, clearly pleased that Will had realized he had been given the drug, and that he was not upset about it.

“I would apologize for medicating you without your consent,” He offered, “but you don’t seem to think it necessary.”

Will shrugged again, feeling as if Hannibal was just trying to initiate some small talk. They both knew what he would say.

“I clearly wasn’t in the position to even give you permission,” He said as they walked to the dining room, “a dissociative state isn’t exactly a reliable source of consent.”

Hannibal nodded, ushering Will into one of the chairs, and set a plate before him.

“I tend to agree, though I would never be pardoned in the legal system if that were my philosophy with all my patients.”

Will laughed as Hannibal sat down.

“Then I guess it’s good I’m not technically your patient,” he said.

Looking down at his plate, Will was struck with an intense feeling of familiarity. 

“You made this for me before,” he stated, “the day we found Hobbs.”

Hannibal smiled, tipping his head slightly.

“Yes,”

Will nodded, taking a bite. It was just as good as the first time, maybe better, since it was relatively more fresh. He hummed happily at the taste and let the food cover his tongue as much as it could. 

Hannibal looked down at his own plate, hiding an appallingly pleased smile. He was proud, but Will couldn’t say it was without reason.

“Any particular reason you decided to repeat the meal?” Will asked between bites. He was curious, but still very hungry.

Hannibal looked up in consideration.

“Perhaps it is because I felt something too complex may add to your feelings of disconnection,” he guessed, “Or that something familiar to you would help you to distinguish reality from fiction.”

Will almost regretted asking. He thought he might have preferred to believe it was a sentimental gesture, but he couldn’t begrudge Hannibal for being honest and he certainly couldn’t be upset that he had actual, logical reasons for doing what he did.

“Jack called,” Will said, “There’s another body, I’m guessing. He needs me at the scene.”

Hannibal nodded.

“He informed me as well. I suppose he will not be expecting you for quite some time, as your home is farther away. Shall we go together?”

Will thought for a moment. If they had called in Hannibal as well, that meant it was something big. Jack wanted all the minds he had on this one, so it was important. 

“You don’t think anyone will find it suspicious if we show up together?” he asked half-heartedly. 

He didn’t really care that morning, but he knew he should be thinking about that kind of thing.

Hannibal took a careful bite and considered as he chewed.

“I think they will likely have other things on their minds,” he replied.

Will shrugged. He had a point.

“Alright,” he said, “but we need a story just in case.”

Hannibal seemed unhappy with that notion, but agreed.

“We could tell them something near the truth,” he offered, “That you were feeling unwell and I offered to accompany you, as a doctor and your psychiatrist.”

Will nodded.

“Sounds good enough for me,” he stated, taking a large forkful of food, “I bet this one’s the Ripper.”

Hannibal paused for a moment, looking at Will intently.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

Will shrugged again and swallowed before answering.

“Jack doesn’t call us both in for just anyone,” he explained, “especially you, early in the morning. He treats you politely, so if it weren’t important, he would have waited to ask you. He has personal reasons for caring about the Ripper, so it’s the only thing that makes sense, unless someone we know was killed.”

Hannibal nodded, an amused and impressed smile on his lips.

“As usual, your mind proves itself superior to many,” he said.

Will laughed.

“Only for you.”

\---

Hannibal was surprised they had found the body so quickly. He had hoped to have time to spend with Will that morning, but he had only been allowed breakfast. 

Will had called Alana to let the dogs out that morning, so he wouldn’t have to go home until it was time for them to have more food. Alana had been glad to hear that Will was feeling better, and was happy to do him another favor.

Will stared at the body when it came into view. 

This was the one Hannibal had them do together. Will’s dissociative state had been a perfect opportunity to sew some seeds, but Hannibal wondered if he was remembering now. Of course, they had no need to worry about any evidence, as Hannibal had been very careful to take care of that. There was an added assurance of them being invited to the scene, as they would have their DNA eliminated from the possible suspects, if anything did happen to be found.

Will glanced at Hannibal with a flicker of guilt in his gaze. 

Will looked very well in Hannibal’s sweater, and Hannibal found it rather distracting. It was one of his favorites, and he felt a sense of pride and ownership over Will while he was wearing it. Clearly, no one else would notice it was his, but Hannibal felt it was a pleasant show of their connection.

“It sure looks like the Ripper,” Beverly said to Will in passing, “left basically no evidence and the display is definitely his style, don’t you think?”

Will nodded, but his brow furrowed in confusion. He definitely noticed something.

The victim was a chef from a local restaurant, and his display seemed to be reflecting that, though Hannibal liked the secretive meaning it had. Will would like it too, someday.

Will crouched down over the abdomen, having been cut open, with cooking utensils inserted to seem as if his internal organs were being prepared to be eaten. Will rubbed a hand over his face and winced. He probably had another headache.

“These cuts here,” he said, pointing for Beverly to see, “They aren’t surgical. Most of the rest are, but these certainly weren’t made by the Ripper. He is too precise. He must have had help.”

Beverly frowned. Jack waited for them to explain.

“Will’s right,” Beverly offered to Jack, “These were definitely someone else. Either that, or he made it look that way on purpose, to throw us off his trail.”

Will shook his head adamantly.

“No. We don’t even have a trail. He didn’t do this to throw us off. This was someone else, doing their best to emulate him, but not having the training necessary. He had help.”

Jack was not pleased with this.

“So, he has some sort of apprentice?” he demanded.

Hannibal stepped forward.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “He may be training someone to follow in his footsteps, or take over when he chooses to stop killing. Perhaps it is a sort of legacy. We cannot guarantee, now, that all the Ripper murders were committed by the same person. It may be a group of people.”

Will stood, and looked at Hannibal. His face was blank, but calculating.

“Maybe,” he admitted, though Hannibal could tell he was not convinced in the least.

Jack ushered everyone off the scene to allow Will to do what he must.

Hannibal turned to leave, but Will grabbed his sleeve. When Hannibal turned back to him, he looked at his shoes sheepishly and shifted his weight.

“Doctor Lecter can stay,” Will told Jack, who gave Hannibal a strange look, but nodded and left.

Hannibal watched as Will stood over the body.

Hannibal had never truly witnessed Will do this on a crime scene, so he was interested to see what would happen.

Will closed his eyes and breathed deeply. His eyes moved under his eyelids rapidly, as if he were dreaming. His fingers twitched in unconscious movements.

Will’s eyes snapped open and he gasped, staring at Hannibal with shock and fear. His pupils were blown wide, and his breathing was fast, like he had been drowning. He had seen something, and Hannibal wished he had the ability to taste what it was. 

Jack walked back onto the scene with the rest of the team and gave Will a cold look, demanding some sort of explanation.

Will shook off his shock and focused.

“This wasn’t just a lesson for some apprentice,” Will stated, “it was a christening. This was a way for the Ripper to signify some sort of connection between himself and his companion. This was probably not the first kill for the apprentice, but it was definitely the first of this kind. I don’t know what we’re looking for here, Jack.”

Hannibal wanted to grin at Will’s brilliance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying it so far. This was one of my favorite chapters to write, so please enjoy.


	22. Compromised Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Will's mind, and a glimpse into Hannibal's

Will wasn’t sure why he had asked Hannibal to stay with him at the crime scene. He normally liked to be alone for that process. He thought it might have been out of obligation, as he still felt like he was in debt to Hannibal. It was probably also a grasp at reality, he recognized. He had been struggling with his illness, and he wanted something to reassure him that he was real, and connected to reality.

The sweater was obscenely soft, and Will wondered if anyone could tell it was way nicer than what he would have bought for himself. He hoped not. People might get ideas.

He was concerned about what he had seen during his process, but he was also entirely confused.

He had seen flashes of what could have been memories, but they made no sense.

Hannibal handing him a knife. Hannibal smiling and nodding. Hannibal wearing a plastic suit over his usual clothes. The body, whole and still, in front of them. His own hand making an incision clumsily. Hannibal with a scalpel, talking to him casually. 

None of it made sense, but it all held an eerie similarity to what he could put together of the scene. It was too close to what he could see had happened. 

He really hoped his encephalitis would let up soon so he could stop having weird stuff like that happen.

Hannibal seemed overly pleased as he drove them back to his house.

“What are you smiling at?” Will asked, recalling having said that to Hannibal before, but not remembering exactly when.

Hannibal glanced over at him.

“I have never had the opportunity to see you at work like that before,” he explained, “I found it fascinating. I would ask you to describe what you saw, but I know that is likely something you wish to keep to yourself.”

Will nodded. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure anymore. He felt like he could tell Hannibal anything, but the nature of what he had seen that day made him hesitate.

“Uh, actually, I think I need to go over it out loud,” he said, trying to gauge Hannibal’s reaction, “Would you mind?”

Hannibal’s smile widened. 

“Of course not. Do whatever will help you.”

Will nodded, not feeling better, but feeling obligated to speak then.

“I think my illness must be messing with me more than I thought,” He admitted guiltily, “Because I kept seeing you in the place of the Ripper. It wasn’t like when I saw Hobbs in the grave that one time. It was like you really were the Ripper. I know it’s crazy, and my head is probably just messed up, but I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

Hannibal seemed to be considering his words.

“I would suggest you consider this more,” he said, “If your mind is trying to tell you something, it would be inadvisable to ignore it. Why do you think you are associating me with this killer?”

Will felt incredibly guilty, then. Hannibal didn’t deserve that kind of thing. He had always helped Will and been there, and now Will was pairing him with some killer. 

“I don’t know,” Will confessed miserably, “I mean, I guess you would fit the profile. You are smart, careful, you were a surgeon. I really don’t think that’s why, though. It feels more complicated than that. Damn my mind for not being able to separate my good things from the bad!”

He had almost yelled the last sentence, and Hannibal gave him a concerned glance. He felt guilty again for having acted that way when Hannibal was just trying to help.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t get it. It’s like my head is full of marbles. Some are mine, and they’re clear. Some are from other people, and they’re black. The more I move, or try to sift through for the clear ones, the more mixed up they get, and the harder it is to see which are which. I just hate it.”

Hannibal pulled up in front of his house and turned to Will.

“Do not think I am offended by the association your mind has drawn, Will,” he said, “I am not. I am curious to see where it leads you, and I hope I can help you draw a divide between the clear and dark in your head.”

Will didn’t know how to reply, so he just stared out the windshield at the road.

“Now, I understand you need to return home to take care of your dogs. Shall I see you at your usual appointment time?”

Will jerked back to reality and looked at Hannibal.

Hannibal was looking at him sincerely and hopefully. Will had almost never seen him with such obvious emotions showing. It was almost eerie to see.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. I just have to get my clothes, and get home for the dogs. I’ll come to our appointment tonight. I’ll be there.”

Hannibal nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“You may retrieve your clothes by yourself,” he said, “I must get the mail, so let yourself in. I will wait here.”

Will nodded. He felt intrusive, going into Hannibal’s house without Hannibal being there with him, but Hannibal had been in Will’s house, so he supposed it wasn’t too strange.

His clothes were folded on a chair in the guest room he had used, and he didn’t bother to check if Hannibal had washed them for him. He probably had, though Will had no idea when he had the time.

He hurried back to the car and Hannibal drove him to his house. They said a quick goodbye, Hannibal making sure Will would take his medication as he should, and Will entered the house.

The dogs were happy to see him, sniffing curiously at his clothes as if asking where he had been for so long. Will smiled and patted them on his way to the kitchen to make them their food.

\---

“So, where do Jack’s priorities lie?” Hannibal asked.

Will huffed a quiet laugh. 

“They never waver from one thing,” he replied, “The Ripper is always at the top.”

Hannibal nodded, not looking up from the sketch on his desk. He had expected as much. It was flattering, really, to take precedent, but ultimately it seemed a foolish decision. They did have another killer on the loose, and he was not as elusive as Hannibal.

“Has he asked you to focus your attention, then?” Hannibal continued, “Or is he asking you to divide it between killers?”

Will wet his lips with a frown.

“He wants me to zero in on the Ripper,” he answered, clearly unhappy.

“And this displeases you,”

Will shrugged, nodding his head in casual agreement.

“I don’t see any reason to think the Ripper will give himself away this time. The angel guy is only going to escalate, though, and we should try to catch him before it goes too far.”

Hannibal nodded, glancing up.

“Have you voiced this opinion to Jack?” He asked.

Will laughed aloud this time.

“I did what I could, but he really can’t be reasoned with when it comes to the Ripper. Personal reasons and all,” He said. 

Will was shifting his weight, not uncomfortable, but feeling he was not being of use.

Hannibal pressed his lips together. 

“Then I hope one or the other will be caught soon, as they will both be in your head until they are.”

Will nodded.

“Their voices compete for attention in my head. The funny thing is that the angel guy is much more aggressive about it,” Will said with a laugh.

“Why do you think that is?” Hannibal asked with a tilt of his head.

Will paced around the office.

“He doesn’t want to be caught, exactly, but he is frantic. He desperately wants, but even he doesn’t know what. He wants to have someone figure it out and tell him. I think that’s why. The Ripper doesn’t want in the same way. He doesn’t kill out of any real desire. For him, it’s more like a hobby, I think. I don’t know.”

Hannibal nodded.

“And how does your internal voice sound nowadays?” Hannibal asked.

Will paused, thinking. He ducked his head and stared at his shoes in embarrassment.

“Would you believe,” He said, a dreamy quality to his voice, “That it took years for it to return to my voice after I moved away from you. It retained your voice for so long that it may have been truly bordering on insanity. And after all this time, it only took one conversation, over breakfast, for it to return to that absurd accent.”

Hannibal smiled genuinely. He was not only amused by Will’s stab at his pride, but also pleased that he still had a voice in Will’s head.

“Friendship often comes with a blur of individual boundaries,” Hannibal offered, “a compromise of separateness.”

Will furrowed his brow as he looked up.

“I’m not sure if I should be comfortable with that,” he said bluntly.

Hannibal offered a warm smile.

“I doubt the compromise would take place if you were not comfortable, though I can say little when it comes to your imagination,” He said, “I am often surprised where it is concerned.”

Will rubbed the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture of nervousness.

“I suppose so. It doesn’t bother me, really. I guess it’s just strange,” Will replied, “How is your inner voice these days? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it.”

Hannibal smiled gently. He had never talked about it with Will, because when they had met it had still consisted of crude laughter from cruel men and the shrieks of fear from his sister from many years ago. Now, it was taking on a gentler tone, and changing every day to be more pleasant.

“It reminds me more of you every day,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually kinda like Hannibal's backstory from Hannibal Rising, so I use that as a basis. Of course, it's a bit different for the purposes of the story, but that's generally where I'm coming from. If you have any questions about it, feel free to comment or look me up on tumblr, as usual.


	23. Guiding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a pretty rough day

_ “No need to worry, Will, you are doing wonderfully,” Hannibal said, gently guiding his hand.  _

_ The scalpel felt small and fragile in his grip, but he held it like a lifeline as he carefully parted the skin from the body. The blood seemed to flow from Hannibal’s hands, and at his bidding, as the abdomen was carefully emptied and refilled. _

_ “Hannibal, I don’t understand,” Will choked out, his tongue feeling heavy and tired in his mouth. _

_ Hannibal reached up to brush a few stray locks of hair from Will’s cheek and let his palm rest there for a moment. _

_ “You will, I promise. You will.” _

 

Will woke with a start, relieved to find that for once he was not covered in sweat from his dream.

Will cursed like a sailor and tried to push the images out of his mind. 

He couldn’t let Hannibal and the killers blur in his mind. That would end up ruining his ability to feel comfortable around him, and he had no one else. 

His alarm went off and he thanked any god that might be out there that he hadn’t woken up in the dead middle of the night again as he got ready for work.

\---

Will was getting tired of staring at the same photos all day when Jack called him. His lectures were over at that point, so he sighed and answered.

“Another Ripper kill, I think,” Jack said, foregoing any usual greetings, “Must have been done at about the same time as that other one, but we only just found it. I need you here.”

Will shoved everything back into the folder and began packing his bag, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“Tell me where,” he said, “and are you going to drag doctor Lecter into this one too, or are you going to be more polite?”

There was an unhappy grunt on the other end, and Will thought he might pay for that comment later, but he didn’t really care.

“I’m getting him here as soon as possible, but he has a few patients today, so it won’t be as soon as I am hoping you can get here.”

Will hummed in agreement, calculating where the scene must be for Jack to have said that. 

Jack gave him the information he needed as he snatched up his keys and made his way out to his car. He had been pretty close with his estimate. 

\---

The scene was not like the last one, but Will could tell it was still the Ripper. It had his usual elegance and precision.

The woman was clutching a folded cloth in one of her hands as she reached toward something unseen, and her head was adorned with a crown of barbed wire that dug into the flesh along her hairline. The crown was tethered to the ground behind her and she seemed to be struggling, pulling against it and causing the barbs to dig deeper. She had left a trail of bloody footprints behind her.

Jack was just as unhappy as he usually was at a crime scene. One would think he would get used to it, but he still acted as if every murder was a personal insult to him.

“I’ll clear the scene for you,” he said gruffly to Will.

Will simply nodded, fixing his eyes on the woman. There was something so much different about this scene, but he didn’t know what it was yet. 

When he had silence, Will closed his eyes. Time reversed, and the woman was whole again. 

_ In my eyes, she has no face. She is simply the material for the creation I will make. She dies, so that I can show them by proxy what they are blind to. She has cast away her blindfold, and chases the truth she can now see. Her mind is burdened by her advance, but she continues, in order to have others follow her trail of blood and pain. _

The chilling voice in Will’s head was loud, and he tried to keep it from taking Hannibal’s accent and tone, but it was pointless. It was like Hannibal spoke those words into his ear and allowed them to rattle around his skull.

Will snapped his eyes open and frowned at the body in front of him. This was not the Ripper’s typical kind of message. The Ripper usually had something to say about the person, or their actions specifically. This one was nameless to him, and he wanted her to send a clear message about something other than who she was.

Jack walked up behind him and cleared his throat to get Will’s attention.

Will turned to him, keeping his frown.

“Well?” Jack asked.

Will waved toward the body, choosing not to look back, for fear he might see something he didn’t want to.

“This is the Ripper,” he agreed, “But something about this is different. He isn’t using her death to call attention to something she did, in her life. He wants us to see something else. This seems more directed to us than it is to her. I don’t know what he’s doing.”

Jack was not happy, but Will knew he wouldn’t be.

“So, what? He’s trying to tell us something? Why not leave us a note? He wants us to understand something, but he set it up just like anyone of his scenes. How are we supposed to know what he wants?”

Will rubbed his face, feeling a headache taking root in his skull.

“I don’t know,” he said, a bit sharply, “He doesn’t want us to look at her like a person. She didn’t even get the same status as the others, that he considered pigs. She was more like clay, or paint. She was just the medium he used for the picture. He wants someone to understand, and for something to change. I don’t know who or what, though.”

Jack was growing more frustrated as the conversation continued. He was not going to let Will leave until he got some more information out of him.

“Any idea what kind of message he is trying to send?” Jack asked.

Will took a deep breath, trying not to let himself become angry.

“Someone has managed to discard their blindfold, and can see the truth about something. They are trying to guide others to the truth, but every step they take towards it is agony for them. The crown suggests it’s intellectual, but it might not be. He has apparently found someone clever, and is unhappy at their self-sacrifice. I can’t tell you any more, Jack. I just don’t know.”

Jack seemed a bit taken aback, and Will realized he had never outright said what he saw. He usually broke it down to the basics, but Jack had been digging his heels in, so Will had let his tongue fly.

“Alright. Write it up and get it on my desk,” Jack said, an undertone of unsteadiness in his voice that Will had never heard before. 

Will just nodded and headed to his car. The team gave him a few quizzical looks, but he ignored them. Jack could sort himself out, but Will needed someone else to sort through his mind. Unfortunately, they had patients today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting close to the end of what I have already written for this one, so the rest of the fic might come slower than it has been. Sorry for that. I'll do my best to keep up.


	24. Clear Water

Hannibal wanted to bask in what he was being told. Jack was explaining what Will had said as he led Hannibal to the scene. 

Will had understood everything with even more precision than Hannibal had expected. He was fuzzy on a few details, but he had most likely not told Jack everything he had seen. 

He would tell Hannibal, though. Later.

The forensics team was buzzing around when they entered, and Hannibal stared at the woman. Her bright red hair flowed down her shoulders like liquid fire, and he hoped her appearance had not been a hindrance for Will. She really had nothing to do with what he wanted to have seen.

The smell of blood was still in the air as the wire was cut and the body slumped forward, the team of people carefully taking her away. Hannibal breathed in deeply and watched with casual interest.

Jack was waiting for him to say something.

“This truly is not his usual message,” Hannibal offered, “He is humiliating her, only through her use to send an impression having nothing to do with her. He is not making this personal, at least for her.”

Jack nodded.

“Will told us that much, anything to add?”

Hannibal thought for a moment.

“He may be trying to send this message to his apprentice, though he could not have been sure they would see it. He may be trying to send it to the authorities, in which case you might want to consider why. I will have more insights as I continue to go over it, which I will include in my write up. If you don’t mind, I do have somewhere I would like to be.”

Jack waved him away, glaring at the evidence bags and bloody footprints as if they would reveal something under his threat.

\---

Hannibal was not surprised to see Will’s car in the parking lot when he returned to his office. He had wanted to get back quickly with the expectation that Will would come.

Will hadn’t bothered to wait in the waiting room, and Hannibal smiled when he walked in to see Will sitting behind his desk.

“Sorry, I would have waited in the waiting room, but I had to shake Freddie off my tail on the way over, and I was worried she would try to follow me in,” Will explained.

Hannibal nodded as he removed his coat and walked over.

“You are always welcome here, Will. Now, what’s on your mind?”

Will huffed a laugh and sat back in the chair.

“You saw the same thing I did,” he said, “So you know exactly what’s on my mind.”

Hannibal nodded, walking over to pluck a notebook off of the shelf behind the desk.

“The death of that woman was consistent with other Ripper kills, yet something struck you as unique. Jack informed me of that much. I would like to hear what struck you so profoundly as to bring you here,” He said.

Will nodded in agreement, an uneasy frown on his face.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” he confessed, “She wasn’t a pig. Not this time. He kills in sounders, because that’s how he sees them. This one was even less to him, or maybe more. He saw her as an artistic medium, and I know he has respect for art, so he may have seen her as more than a pig. This was a message, but I don’t know who it is for.”

Will sounded almost desperately frustrated, but he was trying to hide it. He hated showing that kind of weakness to others.

“Who might it have been for?” Hannibal asked calmly.

Will rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, mussing its curls.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I thought it might be for the apprentice, but there’s no way he would have set the entire thing up without knowing they would see it. I think it must be for the FBI, but I can’t figure why. He has a purpose, he always has, but I can’t see this one.”

Hannibal smiled into the pages of the notebook. Will had all the right instincts. He just didn’t know it yet.

Hannibal watched as Will stood and began pacing around the room. He was agitated, and clearly needed some way of directing his energy.

“You should follow your instincts, Will. They will lead you in the right direction, whether you can see the path or not,” Hannibal said.

Will gave him a curious look, and Hannibal wished he could truly see into his head. What a wonder he would find.

“What do your instincts tell you?”

Will bit his lip as he thought. He was walking up closer to Hannibal, but didn’t seem to realize he was.

“That I’m close,” he said, “but I don’t have all the pieces yet. I have the answer, swimming around in my head, it’s just not on the hook yet.”

That gave him a clue. Will must have a stream in his mind, or some body of water. It made sense, considering everything about him. A stream would give him a feeling of safety and freedom. 

The call made Will and Hannibal both frown in the direction of Will’s pocket. Will sighed heavily and fished the phone out to answer it. Hannibal stepped closer to him, not to eavesdrop, but show support.

“Jack, what is it this time?” Will asked, sounding more annoyed than he usually would have toward Jack.

Hannibal watched silently as Will’s expression changed from annoyed to downright exasperated.

There was a very brief conversation before Will hung up without a farewell.

“I assume he is calling you away from me,” Hannibal guessed.

Will sighed again, rubbing his face and letting his shoulders drop with fatigue.

“The angel guy,” he explained, “Apparently Jack didn’t want me to prioritize, he wanted me to multitask. We have another body, and he wants me there. Now, unfortunately.”

Hannibal hummed unhappily.

“You have been taking your medication correctly, yes?” he asked.

Will nodded, his curls bouncing over his brow and likely tickling his nose because he then brushed them out of his face.

“I don’t want to go crazy because I don’t take my meds. I have an alarm on my phone to remind me.”

Hannibal nodded and placed his hand on Will’s forehead. He was the proper temperature, so Hannibal nodded in approval.

“Don’t let Jack push you into the dark without a rope to lead you back to the light,” Hannibal warned, Will staring up into his eyes. 

Will swallowed hard and nodded. 

“I have to go. See you soon?” 

Hannibal agreed.


	25. Remnants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels

Will could still feel Hannibal’s palm on his forehead as he drove to the scene. 

He hadn’t realized how touch-starved he was until Hannibal was back in his life. Hannibal never hesitated to initiate physical contact, and he was never intrusive about it. It gave Will a sense of security.

Beverly walked in front of the alley as Will pulled up and she gave him a wave. Her face showed her genuine dislike for what Will was about to see, so Will prepared himself. 

He wasn’t well enough prepared.

The man was dangling, wings extended to his sides. The bowing of his head could have been accidental, but it gave the image of prayer or reverence, so it fit the scene. Jack was not going to be happy with what Will could tell him.

“Why angels?” Jack asked, clearly the first of an abundance of questions he had waiting.

Will shrugged. 

“It’s not biblical. Angels don’t have wings, except in paintings and sculptures. His mind is turning against him, and he has no one to help.”

The comment brought a realization to Will’s mind. He needed to talk to Hannibal.

Zeller pointed something out under the body. Beverly and Price were appropriately disgusted and fascinated. 

“He may be trying to make himself into an angel,” Will mused, “Angels have no genitalia.”

Jack closed his eyes, probably trying to sort it out in his head.

“So, he’s getting used to the idea of dying?” He asked.

Will shrugged. 

“He may have accepted his coming death, or he might be trying to bargain,” Will guessed.

Jack didn’t seem satisfied, though Will considered that he couldn’t remember ever seeing Jack satisfied.

“Is he done, or just getting started?” He asked.

Will didn’t answer, staring up at the angel above them. The blood was spattered on the plastic sheet behind the body and dripped down in tear-streaks toward the ground.

“How is he choosing them?” Jack asked, trying to get Will’s attention.

Will looked at Jack, his head and vision feeling more clear than he could ever remember them being.

“I don’t know yet,” he said, making sure to give Jack the hint through his tone and expression.

Jack nodded and ushered everyone away from the scene.

Will looked up at the man and closed his eyes.

Time reversed, the man lowered. His wings furled back into his body and he stood on the ground.

_ Righteousness, justice. He made a devil of himself, so I used him to raise myself an angel. He wasted his life in sin, but I gave him exaltation. _

Will opened his eyes, unfocused and unseeing. Every sound was sharp, and the air was chilled around him. 

He turned and walked to Jack, who lowered his eyebrows in an expectant glower.

“Jack, he thinks he can tell who is doing wrong,” Will said, “He is choosing people he thinks are going to hell, and using them for his own protection.”

Jack huffed lightly.

“So, how does that help us find him?” He asked.

Will chewed on his tongue for a moment.

“It doesn’t,” he admitted, “but he has hurt himself. If he continues on that path, we won’t have to worry about him for much longer. He doesn’t have much longer besides.”

With one last look down the alley, Will had a revelation.

“I think he’s going to kill himself,” he said, turning back to a wary Jack, “He wants to control his own death, as much as he can. He doesn’t want to be subject to god’s will. He will kill himself, and make it in his own way. That’s the best I can give you, Jack.”

Jack nodded, not happy, but ultimately accepting that Will had his limits. He waved the team back into the scene and told Will to get the write up to his desk as soon as possible.

\---

Hannibal washed his hands before taking up the tray and climbing the stairs out of the basement. 

He wanted Will to appreciate the party, and the food would be the cornerstone to an enjoyable evening. Only the best would do.

The poor girl for the scene meant for Will had been healthy enough, and her lungs were wonderful for the dish he had in mind, but he still needed more.

Hannibal checked his watch and sighed. 

He did not want Will to have to miss the dinner because of him, but he knew he would more likely be called away for the angel maker. He did not intend for any of his scenes to be found at such an inconvenient time.

Hannibal pulled on his coat and locked his front door behind him. He pulled the business card from his pocket and consulted the address. It would be an easy night for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and happy Friday the 13th. I'll be out dressed like I'm from the Adams' Family. Have a good one.


	26. Divine Intervention

When Jack found out that the victims were all criminals, he called Will.

“How does he know?” Jack demanded through the phone.

Will sighed, carefully sliding papers into folders and then into his bag as he got ready to go to work.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he replied calmly, “He just has to believe. In his mind, he’s doing god’s work.”

Jack was predictably unhappy.

“Well, Zeller found a guy who could be the one we’re looking for. I need you to get here as soon as you can. We’re bringing in his wife to make sure he’s the one.”

Will checked his watch. 

“Alright, Jack, but I haven’t left home yet. Sure you can’t do without me? You can probably get what you want by the time I get there if you go ahead.”

“Probably, but I also need to get what you want. Have any questions you think I need to ask her?” Jack replied.

Will was grateful he seemed to be respecting his time and considered his question.

“Ask her if he had any places he liked to go that made him feel safe, or when he wanted to be alone. That might give us a clue into where we should look for him, if he’s really the guy we’re looking for.”

Jack agreed and hung up. 

Will let the dogs out and watched them run around for a bit before he put food into their bowls and called them in. They all lined up obediently and ate as he slung the bag over his shoulder and went to his car.

Will was feeling better than he could remember ever feeling on the drive, and he felt like he could see an actually sustainable work ethic. Hannibal wouldn’t be able to begrudge him his job if he was able to handle it this well from now on.

Will walked into work and was immediately ambushed by Zeller.

“Jack is still with the wife, and he wants you there,” he said, “told me to get you once you walked in.”

Will wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew Zeller already didn’t like him, so he smiled instead. He had almost expected Jack to let him off the hook for the interview part of this case, but he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t.

“Lead the way,” he said. His voice was a tad more gruff than he had intended, but he decided he didn’t really need to be Zeller’s friend, so he didn’t really worry about it.

Zeller pivoted on his heel and began to walk down the hall with Will just behind.

Zeller ushered Will into a room where Jack was sitting behind a desk. There was a woman with blonde hair sitting in a chair across from him, and there was an empty chair beside her, presumably for Will.

Will nodded to Jack who decided to introduce him.

“This is Will Graham. He is going to help us find out if we are looking for your husband or not. He’s an expert,” Jack said.

Will shot him a curious glance. It wasn’t typical of Jack to call him an expert, but Will couldn’t detect anything in his expression in way of an explanation.

“Is he doing something bad?” The woman asked.

Will took a breath and looked at her with sincerity.

“That’s what I’m here to find out,” he explained, “I’ve been told your husband has a brain tumor. How did that affect him?”

She looked at him with wide, sad eyes and trembling lips.

“I took time off to spend with him, but he kept pushing me away. He wanted to be alone. He was angry, too. He was always angry.”

Will nodded solemnly. 

“Was he ever violent?” He asked softly.

The woman furrowed her brow.

“No, never to me or the children. He was angry, but he’s really a good man. I know he is,” her voice betrayed fearful desperation.

Jack cleared his throat, a strange, thoughtful expression on his face.

“You divorced him,” he commented, “after the diagnosis.”

The woman nodded miserably.

“I know it makes me seem like a terrible person, doesn’t it? I just didn’t want the kids to be exposed to him while he died,” she said, glancing between Will and Jack, “He wanted to be alone, and he was angry. I didn’t want them to see their father like that.”

Will glanced at Jack, taking note of the strange change in his expression. 

“In all of that, did anything seem to shake his faith?” Will asked.

The woman gave him a quizzical look, frowning.

“He’s not religious,” she said, then glanced back to Jack, “Is he doing something religious?”

Will studied Jack. Something had struck a chord in him, and made him distant. That was odd for him, and Will went back over what could have done that.

“Thank you, that will be all,” Jack said curtly to the woman.

After she was gone, Will sat back in his chair and looked Jack over.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Will asked.

Jack scowled at him.

“Save your analyzing for the crazies,” He retorted.

Will raised his eyebrows.

“Something is very wrong,” he replied, “you might be rude, but that’s a new level for you. You think someone you know has cancer. They haven’t told you, but they want to be alone. That’s what made you think it.”

At Will’s guess, Jack stood. His posture screamed anger, and Will knew he had crossed a line somewhere.

“I don’t need you digging through my head, Graham!” Jack shouted, “Get out, and get to work.”

Will stood, not letting Jack see how much the yelling had shaken him. He fixed Jack with a cold stare as he left.

“I don’t need anyone digging in my head, but that’s all you want to do. You hire people to dig through it for you, even. I won’t always be here to know when something is wrong with you, but you can tell, so you should do something about it. You aren’t going to be able to work properly if you’re distracted like that.”

Will walked out the door and stalked to the labs.

Beverly waved distractedly when he walked in, and Price perked up, probably having something he wanted to gush about and only now having someone to direct it at. 

Will greeted Price and pretended to listen as he was given a clumsy lecture on the biblical significance of the physical appearance of Angels. He already knew most of what was being said, and he knew none of it was really important for the case. He just wanted something to numb him to Jack’s outburst.

He wanted to talk to Hannibal.


	27. Rippling

“Agent Crawford is frustrating you,” Hannibal said calmly. He was sitting in his usual chair, reclined with one knee on top of the other as Will paced around anxiously.

Will huffed.

“I can’t really blame him for being upset,” Will said, “I was really digging into his personal life. It was rude, and completely uncalled for.”

Hannibal tipped his head, watching Will as he always did. Will walked with a certain grace that could only come naturally, but he was unaware of it. It was like watching a wolf stalk through the trees, being completely in their element and with purpose.

“And yet you feel justified in your actions,” Hannibal observed.

Will looked up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his hand over his face and bit his lip as he thought.

“He certainly never hesitates to dig through my head,” Will shot back, “so there is a sort of justice in being able to do the same.”

Hannibal nodded. That was only fair, that Will had the opportunity to put Jack under the lens as he tried so often to do to Will. 

“Then why are you worried?” Hannibal asked.

Will chuckled.

“I basically shouted at my boss,” he answered, wandering around aimlessly, “I insulted his judgement, and intruded into his personal life. I’m not anticipating a very welcoming response. I might even get fired.”

He said the last with no remorse or genuine fear. He didn’t seem to care all that much if he were fired, and Hannibal was glad of that. He didn’t need to tie himself to the job so much that it created those concerns.

“You have already made peace with the idea,” Hannibal said.

Will looked over at him, running his gaze over Hannibal with calculation. Then he nodded.

“I know he could fire me whenever. I have decided that I am only responsible for my own actions. What Jack does isn’t my fault, and if people die without me to catch the killer for Jack, then it won’t be on my conscience.”

Hannibal grinned. That was an exceptionally good thing to hear from Will. He was building effective barriers now, and wouldn’t let Jack break them down or let the thoughts of others touch what was his in his mind.

“I wonder what could have made you so bold as to finally come to that decision,” Hannibal mused aloud, “I feel you would only have the courage if you felt you had support for the decision.”

Will nodded, his hair flopping back and forth wildly. He walked with a little more nervous energy in his step and chewed on his lower lip.

“There, uh, there is one person who-who I know will always support me in my, uh, decisions,” he stuttered, tripping over his words more than usual. He ran his hand through his hair and glanced up at Hannibal a few times.

Hannibal waited. He thought he knew who Will would identify as his support, but he wanted to hear Will say it, unprompted.

Will sighed heavily.

“You know it’s you,” he confessed, spreading his hands in surrender, “I don’t have anyone else in my life that I have known longer than a few years. Stroke your ego, I know, but really.”

Will was marvelously anxious, fidgeting and refusing to make eye contact. Hannibal smiled warmly at him and stood to meet him.

“I hope you do not truly see me as so proud,” Hannibal said, “I would have never assumed. I am pleased that I can give you support in your decisions and that you feel you can trust me.”

Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder, and Will relaxed at the touch. His expression relaxed as well, and he gave a weak but genuine smile.

“Sorry,” Will offered softly, “I just haven’t had a lot of positive reactions recently. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Hannibal nodded and led Will back to his chair, seeing that Will was more tired than he wanted to let on.

“If I may ask, what made Jack react so poorly to you?” Hannibal asked once they were both reclined into their seats.

Will sighed. He tipped his head back and seemed like he might fall asleep, but Hannibal knew he was attentive.

“We were talking to the wife of our angel maker,” he said distantly, “she said her husband was isolating himself, and Jack reacted. He got all quiet and stopped asking the questions like he normally would. After she left, I asked him. He wasn’t happy, but I got into his business. I guessed that someone in his life has cancer, or he thinks they do.”

Hannibal nodded.

“That seems a reasonable conclusion,” he said, “What drove you to tell him?”

Will grimaced. 

“He told me to save my analyzing for the crazies,” he replied.

Hannibal considered this. That was a rather crass phrasing, though it was no doubt exactly what Jack had said. The wording was likely not what had set off Will, though, and Hannibal wondered what had.

Will wet his lips and stared up at the ceiling.

“I haven’t ever like the way he talks about the killers,” Will continued, “calling them crazy, always. He considers them as less. Lower.”

Hannibal smiled softly.

“And this bothers you,” he said.

Will frowned.

“I guess it shouldn’t,” he admitted, “But it does. Most of these killers aren’t less, they are just other. It’s like comparing a falcon to a sailfish. They aren’t equatable. Some of the killers even have elegance and design in their actions, and I can’t ignore it.”

Will sounded afraid, but only of himself. He likely worried at his ability to see the beauty in death, and his defensiveness of the identities of the killers.

“Will,” Hannibal said, leaning forward in his chair, “There is nothing wrong with you. You are brilliant and invaluable because of your ability to see the elegance and perceive the design. Jack cannot see it, so he does not understand. It is his ignorance that bothers you.”

Will looked at Hannibal and bit his lip. He wasn’t happy with what was being said, but a wave of relief washed through his eyes, and Hannibal knew it was working.

“I want to catch the Ripper,” Will blurted.

Hannibal blinked in surprise. That was definitely not what he had been expecting Will to say. He raised an eyebrow and Will grimaced at himself.

“Sorry. I didn’t exactly mean to say that out loud. I just think it would help Jack a lot if I could catch the Ripper. It would be good for everyone. I wouldn’t have to have him in my head, and Baltimore wouldn’t have to have him prowling the streets. It’s good all around.”

Hannibal reclined again, and steepled his fingers as he thought.

That was a concern, then. If Will was determined to find the Ripper, then he would be harder to work with. 

“Perhaps you should focus on your angel maker first,” Hannibal suggested, “as you said, he is more of an immediate threat.”

Will seemed to deflate a bit, but relaxed and nodded.

“You’re right. I was right. I don’t know how I would catch the Ripper anyway. He’s really good at what he does.”

Hannibal smiled to himself.

They frowned at each other when Will’s phone rang, interrupting them once more. Will pulled it out and gave Hannibal a meaningful look.

Ah, it was Jack, then.

Will answered and only spoke for about a minute before he was up and putting his coat on.

“Angel maker,” Will explained, “They tracked down an old farm where he liked to be alone. Jack wants me to get over there with him in case I’m right about him taking his own life. My hour was almost up anyway.”

Hannibal walked him to the door and placed a meaningful hand on his arm, making Will turn to him as they stood there.

“You are not my patient, Will,” Hannibal said, “you needn’t abide by my rules for patients. You know that. Would you like me to come with you?”

Will blushed lightly and tore his gaze away from Hannibal’s.

“No. Really. I’ll be fine. The guy will either be there or not. I don’t think it will be that bad. Thank you, though.”

Hannibal removed his hand and nodded. 

“Very well, then,” He said, “I shall see you tomorrow.”

Will nodded and walked away.

That had been odd. 


	28. Elevation

Will was neither surprised, nor pleased. He stared up at the body suspended above them. He breathed in every detail as Jack walked up behind him.

Will could feel the disgust and residual anger radiating from Jack, but he made no move to turn toward him as he stopped beside him.

“I expect an apology,” Jack declared.

Will spared him a glance, frowning.

“I’ll apologize for getting into your personal life,” Will offered, “But I stand by what I said. There’s something wrong, and you need to address it. You can’t work as well as you should in that condition, and I don’t think it’s fair of you to force me to only look at criminals. I’ll break, and be no more use to you.”

Jack grunted unhappily, but Will kept his gaze on the angel floating above them with his arms outstretched. 

“This isn’t you, Will,” Jack said, “You don’t say things like that.”

Will turned fully to Jack, with a naturally calculated expression.

“Jack. Letting people walk all over me might be what you’re used to, but that doesn’t mean that’s who I am. I want to help, but I also want to be able to help for as long as I can. I can’t do that if I let you break me.”

Jack’s frown deepened. He set his jaw and nodded sharply, turning and stalking out of the barn. Will sighed and turned back to the body. The forensic team was scrambling around, taking pictures and identifying evidence. 

Jack wasn’t going to give him a clear scene this time. This was the killer. He didn’t need Will to figure out what had happened. They had him.

Will closed his eyes.

_ I have been abandoned by god. I take my life into my own hands, as I have done for the demons before me. I do not die by god’s hand. This is My design. _

Will could see the flames licking at the man’s skull in his head. The vision of sin and uncleanliness that would betray the demons from the saints. He looked down at his hands and saw the same flames licking there, but they didn’t hurt. He flexed his fingers and realized. 

The fire was not consuming him, it was coming from him. He was the flame.

Will opened his eyes and ignored the odd looks that seemed to never stop coming from the forensic guys. They thought he was odd, and they probably wondered whether he even belonged on the scene.

Will knew he belonged, but he was beginning to wonder in what facet. 

Jack walked back up to Will when he walked out of the barn, and Will only looked to him when he addressed him.

“Will. I know I’ve been tough on you. I’m sorry for that. I hope you will continue to work with us. You are saving lives, and we need you.”

Will snorted, glancing back over to the barn.

“I didn’t save any lives this time,” he said, “This guy killed exactly as many as he was going to. I didn’t catch him. He ended it.”

Jack shrugged.

“This was once, and you know there will be more, not like him. Like the others. You know it,” Jack said, “I need you on my team.”

Will nodded.

“I’m on your team, Jack. I just need to be a part of it and not just a tool used by it. I also need to be able to give my lectures. I’m not always gonna be around, so someone needs to provide the next generation of profilers.”

Jack nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do. Stay out of my personal life, though, or I might just have to kick you to the curb.”

Will knew he was being honest, and he agreed. He didn’t really want to know everything about Jack’s sad life. He already knew far too much to be happy about it, but it hadn’t been entirely intentional. 

\---

“So, the angel maker joins the ranks of the angels he created,” Hannibal mused.

Will grimaced.

“I didn’t catch him,” he said, a tone of self depreciative misery seeping through his words.

Hannibal shook his head as he carefully arranged some of the food they were preparing. Will still had little belief in his own competence.

“I believe Jack is satisfied that you were only a step behind, and this was not all too similar to the other cases he has you handle,” Hannibal said.

Will huffed, clearly not satisfied himself.

“Ah, I see,” Hannibal said, glancing up to see Will’s unhappy staring at the food, “you are disappointed in yourself for not having caught him. I can’t help but wonder why that is.”

Will set his jaw, taking a moment to gather his words.

“I don’t know,” Will admitted, “I know I did what I could, but I feel suddenly out of place. Like I’ve never really fit into the puzzle, but I’m just now trying to interlock with the other pieces.”

Hannibal thought that was an interesting image, but ultimately inaccurate. Will was more like a wolf pup that had been raised by sheep, and was beginning to crave meat for the first time. He was beginning to sharpen his teeth.

“Perhaps you do not belong in the puzzle you are trying to fit,” Hannibal said, “or you were not meant to fit into any puzzle as you are.”

Will huffed a laugh. He shook his head, letting his hair bounce over his brow.

“But everyone wants to fit in. Humans are social creatures. Must they sand away their edges and maim themselves, they will do everything they can too have a place. I’m not different. It’s my nature to want to belong,” Will said.

Hannibal smiled at Will, who was looking determinedly at the food he was working with, as if set upon not making even the slightest mistake.

“I think you are completely unique,” Hannibal replied, “are you anxious about this dinner?”

Will tipped his head with a small grin.

“Not as much as I thought I would be,” He replied softly, “I really feel like I should be more worried about being in a room with the high society type. I’m not typically very good company.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I am pleased you decided to come. I understand your discomfort and hope I can be of some aid to you in that. You needn’t act in any way that is outside of your comfort,” He offered.

Will nodded.

“Thanks. I’ll try not to embarrass you in front of your fancy friends, but I can’t make any promises.”

Hannibal took up the dishes he had been working on and moved toward the dining room. He passed just behind Will on his way and allowed his shoulder to brush the tips of Will’s shoulder blades on his way by.

“As far as I am concerned, it should be an honor for all of us to be in your presence,” Hannibal said as he passed.

Will would have turned to chew him out for being so odd, but he had vanished through the doorway before Will had the words.

Hannibal happily placed the dishes on the table and turned back to the kitchen.

Hannibal scooped up the platters that Will had been tending with a playful smile. Will was slightly pink in the ears and the cheeks, but he had a reluctant grin over his face. Hannibal was pleased to see he could get such a reaction from Will.

“Please, come sit down,” Hannibal said, bowing slightly to Will. 

Hannibal knew Will would wonder if he were mocking him with the bow, but he straightened up and looked Will over.

Will had stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded lightly to Hannibal. Hannibal turned and headed into the dining room with the dishes, Will at his heels with nervous energy radiating from him.


	29. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the dinner. It took me forever to decide exactly how I wanted it to go down. I hope you all like it.

Hannibal had put Will to his left, having taken into account his unease at being surrounded by strangers. Will was glad to have Hannibal so close, so he could step in if conversation became awkward.

Across from him was the doctor that had helped with his encephalitis. Will offered a weak smile to the man, who all but gaped at him. 

Will felt terribly under dressed, despite the fact that Hannibal had told him he looked fine. He was wearing a dark blue suit that hadn’t seen the light of day since he had interviewed for his job at Quantico. He had a white shirt with it and a red tie. It had been a last ditch effort to look nice when he realized the day was upon him. 

In truth, he had wanted to come mostly to see Hannibal in that kind of setting. He had never really joined Hannibal in any of his social gatherings, and he was curious. 

There were both more people than Will had expected, and fewer than he had anticipated. The table was exactly full, and he thought he probably should have expected that, but his mind had convinced him there would be a hundred guests in the room. 

Once the meal began, the other guests fell into comfortable and gentle conversation. 

The woman sitting next to the doctor eyed Will curiously, an intrigued smile on her thin lips. 

“Who is this delightful young man?” She asked Hannibal.

She seemed very pleased to be there, and not at all uncomfortable being absolutely forward with anyone there. Will thought he could grow to like being in her presence if she didn’t intrude too much into his life.

Hannibal smiled at her before turning the grin to Will.

“Will has been my friend for many years,” Hannibal explained, “We lost contact for some time, but recently have met again.”

Will could see a glint in Hannibal’s eye as he spoke. He was very happy to call Will his friend in front of these people.

Will felt his face grow warmer, and took a sip of his wine quickly before he offered the woman a smile.

“Well, isn’t that lovely,” she said, smiling back at him.

Her smile was close lipped, but Will got the sense that it was the biggest smile she possessed. She was genuinely pleased to hear that Will was Hannibal’s friend.

“And what is it you do?” She asked, glancing up at Will as she cut her food.

Will cleared his throat. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of response he should give. 

“I teach at the FBI academy,” he said weakly.

The woman nodded lightly, and Will almost worried that her very thin neck would not be able to withstand the movement. Then, she looked back up at him with a sharp gaze.

“Oh! You’re that man from the papers!” She said, “Will Graham. I knew I recognized you.”

Will winced, and could feel the attention of a few more at the table shift toward him at her words. She was very capable of commanding attention.

Will looked down at his plate and swallowed hard.

“Yes,” he said.

Hannibal shifted in his seat slightly, and smiled at the woman who was studying Will intently now.

“Will has a great many skills that the FBI utilizes. There are far too many people wishing to give their opinions of him. A good number of which have the wrong idea.”

At Hannibal’s words, the energy of the room shifted, and Will could feel the immediate acceptance that the guests gave him. Hannibal’s approval was worth so much more than he had expected. The attention shifted back away, though he could feel the regard that was directed toward him with a few more glances.

Will looked back up and the woman gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry I brought that up,” She said, “I didn’t realize it would be something that would make you feel uncomfortable. I hope you can forgive me.”

Will smiled with genuine relief and nodded.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I’m mostly used to it now.”

The woman nodded, and Will glanced back to Hannibal. Hannibal was watching their exchange with a protective set to his jaw letting Will know he was ready to defend him. It almost made Will laugh to see. Hannibal looked like he was ready to fight someone on his behalf.

With an amused smile, Will ducked his head back down to look at his plate. He had no idea what most of the food was, other than that almost all of it had meat in it. That was something he had nearly not noticed about Hannibal. He was almost carnivorous.

The doctor across from Will turned to Hannibal, seemingly trying to ignore Will as much as possible.

“How did you and Mr. Graham meet, then, Hannibal?” He asked.

Will perked up a bit, curious to hear what Hannibal would say.

Hannibal chuckled lightly in his chest.

“We were attending the same High school,” he said, “and we ran into each other.”

Will knew he looked like a grinning mess at that point. Hannibal was ridiculous. He refused to tell his guests anything bad about Will, even if it was just that he had gone to the principal’s office during high school. 

“Indeed,” the doctor said, “You don’t seem to have many similar interests. I can’t help but wonder what you may have found in common.”

Will knew Hannibal wasn’t going to be pleased at the line of questioning, so he lifted his head up with a smile.

“We didn’t need to have like interests to hold interesting conversations,” he said. 

Will knew his speech patterns had just blended with Hannibals, and he found that oddly pleasing. He didn’t often let himself talk like Hannibal, but he thought this would be the proper place to do so.

The doctor met his eyes and Will could see the deep insecurities the man held, along with the flicker of falling hope as he processed the words. It also did not escape his notice that Hannibal was smirking down at his own food as Will smiled at the man.

The doctor cleared his throat nervously.

“Ah, well then. I suppose that’s true. I suppose I remember that high school students didn’t tend to have overly interesting conversations, so I didn’t expect yours to have been,” he offered. 

It was a feeble excuse, trying to cover up the fact that he had not expected Will to be the kind of person Hannibal would find interesting.

“Quite contrary,” Hannibal said, “Will possesses a quality which I admire. He abhors small talk, so every conversation with him is interesting. Nothing he says is shallow or single sided.”

Will shot Hannibal a look with a raised eyebrow and lopsided frown. Hannibal returned it with an overly pleased expression of his own.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful that you two are such good friends,” the woman piped in, “I thought Doctor Lecter must have been a recluse before he came here. I had never met anyone from his life before.”

Will smiled.

“Hannibal has always been a sociable person,” Will said to her, “so it’s a wonder he decided I was worth his time. I am more a recluse than he ever has been.”

The woman laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound, though it managed not to grate too much.

“Hannibal, you are so full of surprises,” she said.

Hannibal smiled politely to her.

“Thank you,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may be an extension of the dinner scene, but I have yet to decide. If you have a strong opinion, feel free to let me know what you want from the next chapter. I make no promises, but I am curious. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.


	30. Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extension of the dinner scene, because I actually did need a little more.

Hannibal had noticed the way Will had adapted his speech patterns to be more like his. It was a skill he had often observed from Will, but never had Will allowed himself to use Hannibal’s voice around him before. It was fascinating to see.

Will did not seem to be doing as poorly as Hannibal had worried, and he looked to be actually enjoying himself somewhat. His face retained a light pinkness through most of dinner, and he would periodically grin to himself.

Hannibal allowed himself to be very pleased with how Will made doctor Sutcliff behave. The doctor had often tried to insert himself further into Hannibal’s social circle, and he likely had believed that the invitation to the dinner was a sign that he had succeeded. Having Will there made him deflate and realize his relative insignificance, which Hannibal absolutely reveled in.

Hannibal lost himself in watching Will speak. The line of his jaw moved perfectly as he replied to the other guests with precise answers. His hair was combed well and fell in perfect curls that brushed the tops of his ears.

“Hannibal!”

It was Mrs Komeda, and she was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Hannibal noticed there were a few others looking at him with similar expressions.

“My apologies,” he offered with a smile, “I was momentarily lost in thought.”

Mrs. Komeda smirked.

“I never thought I would see the day that happened,” she remarked, “What in the world were you thinking of?”

Her less than subtle glances at Will made it clear she had her own ideas of what had taken his attention away from the dinner.

“I am a negligent host,” Hannibal declared in response, “I am afraid to say that I was preoccupied with thoughts of work. A shameful thing to allow oneself to be distracted by when hosting a dinner.”

Mrs. Komeda did not seem at all convinced, but she smiled and nodded despite this. 

“Well, I hope it wasn’t because I was boring you,” she said, “I was just asking Will if I should expect to see him at any performances in town.”

Will was giving Hannibal a polite smile that he knew was a plea for advice. He did not know the correct response.

“I’m afraid Will hasn’t yet had the opportunity to attend any,” Hannibal offered, “But I was planning to change that as soon as an appropriate occasion arises.”

Will winced slightly, but smiled back at Mrs. Komeda, who seemed overly pleased at the idea.

“I just know you’ll learn to love it,” she said, referring either to a type of performance, or the type of gathering they accompanied, “I can tell you are the kind of man who can appreciate that sort of thing.”

Will thanked her, casting sideways glances at Hannibal. He was going to have a lot of questions.

Hannibal was surprised with himself for having let his attention waver. 

The dinner concluded smoothly, and Will volunteered to linger. He seemed to feel obligated to help with the cleaning required after the gathering, and Hannibal knew it would also provide him the opportunity to ask his questions.

“Were you really planning on inviting me to some sort of opera or something?” Will asked, stacking plates carefully beside the sink.

Hannibal hummed in confirmation.

“I had hoped to find a suitable performance that I could be sure you would enjoy, and surprise you with the invitation,” he confessed, “but Mrs. Komeda has a tendency to pity those who do not have the opportunity, and I know you have a disdain for being pitied.”

Will chuckled, and Hannibal smiled. 

“You’re right with that,” Will replied, “but I don’t know what kind of high society thing I could possibly enjoy.”

Hannibal nodded, placing a candle back into the cupboard where it belonged.

“I would like to believe I would be able to find something, though you never cease to surprise me. I am quite sure you will prove unpredictable to my death.”

Will laughed aloud that time, and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you can just say things like that,” he said.

Hannibal frowned. 

“May I ask for an explanation?” He asked.

Will stopped his activity and turned to Hannibal. He leaned back and propped his hips on the counter with his hands to either side of himself. His face was growing slightly pink again, and he couldn’t keep eye contact.

“You just say things. You said everyone should be honored to be in my presence, you only let them hear good things about me, you always say things like that. I don’t know how or why you do it.”

Hannibal nodded. 

He wanted Will to understand. He had seen his vibrant potential while they had been young together, and he wanted Will to know it was there. He wanted to show Will that he could become so much  more than any of the others, if he would only embrace what was in him. 

“I hold you in high regard,” Hannibal said, returning to his work, “your mind is of highest value to me, and I can see the potential it holds. You lead the blind to the truth despite the strain it puts on you. I admire all of you, and you value honesty, so I am honest with you.”

Will was very pink, nearing red in places, and he just nodded silently before he turned back to his task. 

Hannibal knew every word he said was a calculated risk, but he felt the anxious surge of knowing Will was entirely unpredictable. The outcome would be out of his hands, and it was the potential reward that he was willing to risk everything for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow yourself to bask in the softness of this chapter. Next one is going to be a doozy. Be prepared. Thanks for reading. <3


	31. Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a mite of a fight. Buckle up for the ride.

Will sat in the dark, listening to the quiet sound of the dogs breathing on the floor next to him. 

Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper. 

It had hit him like a bulldozer, the realization. His foggy hallucination had come into full focus as the medication rid his body of infection. It was a memory. Hannibal had guided Will in disfiguring a body. Will had been the apprentice.

Everything was terrible.

All these years, Hannibal had been the only one Will had trusted, but apparently the only one he shouldn’t have.

The words Hannibal had said after the dinner. They had been exactly what the Ripper had been saying with the death of that woman. The blindfold, the tether of thorns. It was all a metaphor for how Hannibal saw Will.

Something inside Will whispered that he had known from the beginning. Known the day he had glanced up and accidentally met the eyes of the man in Jack’s office for the briefest moment. Known when he had woken up in Hannibal’s house with foggy memories he tried to explain away as a distant nightmare.

They had always understood each other better than anyone else. Will had wanted to be blind.

 

Will wasn’t sure how he ended up there, but he found himself back in Hannibal’s house, pointing his gun at Hannibal. The other man stood still, neither looking afraid or terribly upset. He merely looked curious.

“I could kill you now, and have no moral backlash,” Will declared, his hand shaking as he tried to steady his aim.

Hannibal looked at him with cool sadness.

“And yet you do not pull the trigger,” He observed.

Will wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He didn’t know which would feel better. Hannibal was showing so little concern for his own safety.

“I’m no saint,” Will replied bitterly, “But you would make a martyr of me, wouldn’t you? I die trying to stop you, and am seen as a hero? That’s what you would do if I don’t kill you, and don’t join you, isn’t it?”

Hannibal frowned.

“I decided long ago that the world is better with you in it,” He said honestly, “I relinquish my control for you to decide where we may go. I will follow where you lead.”

Will grit his teeth. 

Hannibal was always so seductive in his choice of words. He made everything sound right, and acceptable. Will knew he would never truly be in control between them. Hannibal always kept the upper hand for himself.

“Damn you,” Will said, without conviction, “Things could have been different. You didn’t have to lie to me all this time.”

Hannibal seemed to genuinely flinch at the words, his face turning sorrowful.

“I have betrayed you, as the one who should never have spoken falsely. I cannot ask to be forgiven, I can only allow you to do as you see fit.”

Will wanted to shoot him, then. 

No, he wanted to use his hands. He wanted to feel the resistance of his flesh and his bones as they gave way to the force Will used. He wanted Hannibal to beg him for mercy and to smell Hannibal’s blood in the air. Will knew Hannibal would never beg for mercy. If he wanted to be spared, he would simply say Will’s name, as he always had, with quiet reverence.

Will cursed, looking down at the floor, but not lowering his gun.

Hannibal made no move to get to safety while Will was distracted.

“I trusted you,” he said, his voice rising in volume, desperate, “I needed to trust you. You were the only thing that I knew was real. But you never were. You were never real. You just wanted to see what I would do. You and everyone else.”

Hannibal, for once in his life, could not bring himself to meet Will’s gaze. His eyes seemed to glisten, and Will realized with a start that he was on the verge of tears. Hannibal, the most stoic of men, was crying.

“Don’t do that,” Will snapped, almost shouting. It drew Hannibal’s inquisitive gaze up, still wet.

“Don’t try to manipulate me. You always do that. Even now, you’re crying like you actually care. You never cared. I hate you for letting me feel like you were my friend.”

Will felt childish for saying it, but he needed to say something, and if it could make Hannibal hurt in any way then it was worth it.

Hannibal’s frown deepened.

“Will,” he said weakly, “I cannot undo what I have done, but I have always considered you my friend.”

Will did laugh then. It was sharp, and bitter, and choked with a sob that threatened to force itself into the open.

“You always considered me interesting. You’re just like everyone else. I was just a tool you used to get what you wanted. You saw me twisted every way to do what other people wanted, and you thought you might as well join in the fun and get your bit of my head,” Will was rambling now, his hands growing sweaty and shaking even more, “I let everyone into my head, you know that, and you just moved yourself right in along with all the other killers. You thought no one would notice, and I didn’t. I’m damn stupid.”

Hannibal had genuine pain in his eyes now, and it only made Will angrier to see it. His pride was hurt. That was all it was. His damn pride. He didn’t feel guilty, he was just indignant.

“Will-”

“Don’t!” Will cut off, “I don’t want to hear you say another lie. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this.”

Will lowered his gun and ran his free hand over his face. He was shaking all over and he felt suddenly exhausted. 

Hannibal’s fingers twitched, as if wanting to move to Will, but he knew he was not welcome, so he stood rooted to the spot.

Will slowly walked away, listening for Hannibal to follow. 

No steps followed him as he got to his car and dropped in behind the wheel. He set his gun on the passenger seat and leaned forward. He pressed his forehead on the wheel and let out a shuddering breath. 

The tears fell onto his lap, and Will would hear the impact in the quiet of the car. His choked, gasping sobs overtook the silence as he felt the weight of everything settle back on his bones. 

Grief, frustration, and overwhelming rage coursed through his veins, burning him from the inside out. He could feel it igniting his flesh and searing his soul. 

He clamped his mouth shut, fearing that he would relinquish himself to the primal and visceral emotions that wanted to tear from his throat like a feral snarl at the back of his teeth. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but the feelings eventually ebbed until he was left with only a hollow feeling of acceptance, reverberating in his chest like a stone tossed into a chasm.

He drove home in a near comatose state, feeling nothing and choosing not to think.

Once he was sitting on his bed, his dogs sniffing curiously at his knees, he allowed himself to begin to process.

Now, he had no idea what Hannibal would choose to do. Will recognized he should be more concerned, as Hannibal could easily kill him, but he had no energy for it. 

If Hannibal chose to kill him then, he would do nothing. He would rather have Hannibal kill him than have to kill Hannibal and live with the knowledge that he had done the right thing and hated doing it.

Will let the dogs out and took care of them, not feeling anything more than he had on the drive. He wondered briefly if the numb feeling would ever go away, but he still had no energy to care about that kind of thing.


	32. Beastly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short, and all in Hannibal's head.

Hannibal was unsure of how to feel. 

Will had shown his beast, and it was beautiful. It was dark and dangerous, and terrifyingly incredible.

Despite the revelation of the beast, Will had been daggers to Hannibal. He had cut him with precision and force. Every word had been designed to damage, and Will was the only one in the world who made Hannibal vulnerable to them. 

His eyes had stung for an hour after Will had left, and his chest felt empty. He was familiar with the sensation, but it was much more painful for the understanding he now had of it. 

Heartbreak.

His sister had broken his heart when she was killed, and he had spent years with an empty cavity inside him. 

When had it been filled?

Hannibal tucked the question to the back of his mind as he finished cleaning up from the dinner. He knew that at any moment, the FBI could be storming through his door and putting him into handcuffs. Will was their bloodhound, and they would follow where he pointed. He dried the dishes slowly and placed them back where they belonged. 

He had promised to leave the outcome up to Will, so he would. Nothing would change, save it be by Will’s verdict. 

Hannibal prepared for bed and lay in the dark. He wondered if he would have a nightmare again, as he had for so many years after Mischa. The thought made it difficult for him to fall asleep, but he eventually drifted.

\---

Hannibal’s mind was never far from Will as he saw his patients. Will had not contacted him, and no authorities had either. Will was still between decisions, so it seemed.

Hannibal wondered if Will had been unable to sleep, perhaps expecting Hannibal to behave drastically. Would he have worried and fretted over what he would do, as he sat alone in the dark the night before? Would he have resolved to bring their situation to its end in his own way?

With every question came the potential for wonderful, and terrible things to happen, and Hannibal felt an odd pulsating energy in his fingertips all day.

Did Will experience similar sensations? 

Hannibal knew all the wondering in the world would be useless to him if he could not get the answers from Will, but it did not stop him from wondering. 

How rare it was for him to feel so powerless, and yet he delighted in it. 

Hannibal moved through the day as he usually did, though his mind was engaged elsewhere, and his person suit performed admirably for the public eye. He found himself at home without having been perfectly present in any other place that day.

He prepared dinner for himself and ate in silence. He would have normally played a symphony softly in the background, but his mind was preoccupied and he would not have the mentality to enjoy it.

Would Will return to him, to do what he hadn’t brought himself to do the night of his realization? Would he return to forgive Hannibal his betrayal? 

Hannibal didn’t have the presence of mind to fully explore the options, and he only ended up frustrating himself with all his idle questions. He had never been truly indecisive in his life, and yet here he was, worrying over things like a child.


	33. Savage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I take every opportunity I can to make fun of Fredrick Chilton, and I shall continue to do so indefinitely.
> 
> Will has a bit of a shock in this chapter.

Will hated Hannibal. Everything about him made Will acutely aware of the hollowness in his chest, causing him to feel numb and out of focus.

“Doctor Chilton says he has the Ripper in custody,” Jack told him.

Will raised an eyebrow. 

“Really,” he said, less a question, and more a consideration.

Jack huffed unhappily.

“Yeah. Abel Gideon. He killed a nurse, and it looks a lot like one of the Ripper kills. Chilton is sure he’s the one.”

“How long has doctor Gideon been in custody?” Will asked.

“Two years,” Jack replied.

Will nodded. The last confirmed Ripper kill had been two years ago, but Will knew there had been more since then. This doctor was incredibly confused if he believed his prisoner was the Ripper.

“He’s not the Ripper,” Will stated.

Jack shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not, but the evidence is compelling, and I need you to take a look.”

Will grimaced. The last thing he wanted was to try getting into the head of the Ripper, now that he knew who it really was.

“Where do we need to go?” Will asked.

“Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane,” Jack answered.

A pang of sheer panic shot through Will like lightning. It was a prison for the insane. That was the last place on earth he wanted to be, aside from anywhere near Hannibal at that moment.

“Alright. I’ll go, but I’m telling you he’s not the Ripper.”

Jack nodded.

“I understand, but we have more people to convince than just us,” he said.

\---

The hospital looked so much more like a prison than Will had hoped. It loomed over everything with intimidating and shadowy power.

Will tried to steady his breathing before he started up the steps. Jack shot him a questioning glance.

“You okay?” he asked.

Will nodded.

“I don’t really like mental institutions,” he explained, “I always feel like they won’t let me back out.”

Jack furrowed his brow, but turned and walked up to the building.

“I won’t leave you here,” he said.

Will bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something rude. He knew Jack wouldn’t leave him here as long as he believed Will was capable of helping him and saving people. It would only take a small mental break for Jack to change his mind about that, and Will could feel the spiderweb of cracks in his mind being put under pressure by his every thought.

Will almost laughed when he was introduced to Doctor Chilton.

“Ah, Mister Graham,” Fred said, “or is it Doctor Graham?” 

Will almost burst into hysterical laughter.

“Uh, no doctor. I’m a teacher.”

Fred grinned. Everything about him was exactly like Will had imagined he would be as an adult. He was still arrogant, ignorant, and drunk with his own imaginary power.

“Ah, a teacher,” he said, seeming amused, “I’m pleased to have you here.”

Will very much doubted that he would be so pleased if he remembered that they had gone to school together, and that Will had been friends with the one person in the school who refused to accept his invitations to anything.

“Will is going to need to see the scene. I trust it hasn’t been disturbed?” Jack asked.

Fred turned away from Will to face Jack.

“Oh yes. For something so disturbing, I can say it is very much undisturbed,” he said.

Will could see his self-appreciative glint he had always worn in his eye. He thought himself incredibly clever for having thought to say that.

Jack looked to Will, who nodded.

“Oh, yes, that thing you do,” Fred mused, turning back to face Will, “I would very much like to get you in here for a session.”

At the look Jack gave him, Fred waved a calming hand. 

“Not today, of course, but perhaps some other time?”

Will smiled politely.

“No thank you, Fredrick. I think I would rather not have more than one psychiatrist sifting through my brain.”

Fred seemed to recognize Will, then. His face turned pale, and then began to turn pink around his ears. He was likely remembering the times Will had offered that same smile to him from over Hannibal’s shoulder as Hannibal explained that he would not be attending the school basketball game, or some other activity.

“Ah. Very well then,” Fred replied, “But I would like to observe, today. If that is acceptable.”

Jack nodded, eager to get Will to the scene.

Will recognized the scene. It was a nearly exact replication of the last known Ripper kill. The wound man sketch, brought to life before his eyes in the form of the nurse as it had been done with the man two years prior.

Will closed his eyes and replayed what had happened. 

Everything seemed to fit what the Ripper would have done, aside from the fact that Will knew that Hannibal had not done it.

Opening his eyes again, Will shook his head at Jack. Fred raised an eyebrow from over Jack’s shoulder, and Will walked over to the door to talk to them.

“It looks like him, but it’s not,” Will stated.

Fred shifted his weight, and Will knew he would have crossed his arms if they had still been teenagers. He had done it before.

“Everything matches, down to the last detail,” Fred argued, “It’s him. The killings stopped immediately after his incarceration, and have now begun again, right here. I have had the Ripper the entire time. That’s why you couldn’t catch him.”

Will wanted so badly to roll his eyes, as he had always done back in school. Fred had always been far too sure of himself, and Will had managed to make him turn red during many a presentation when he would roll his eyes at incorrect information.

“I would like Will and Alana Bloom to have the chance to talk to Gideon,” Jack said.

Will grimaced. He didn’t want to, but he knew he would do it now that Jack had said it in front of Fred. Fred had always tried to get under Will’s skin, and Will would never let him.

“I would be amenable to that,” Fred agreed, looking Will up and down, “and I am curious to see what comes of it.”

Will offered another polite smile, and Fred cleared his throat before turning sharply to walk back to his office.

\---

“You’re not the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Doctor Gideon tipped his head curiously.

“Well, no. I’ve never really liked that name for myself. It’s not a very good description of what I do, don’t you agree? And I’m not like that poor fellow, Jack the Ripper, from old back when. I’m different.”

Will frowned.

“Yes. The Ripper is much different. His kills are more artistic and purposeful,” He agreed, “But you’re not him. I know you’re not the Ripper.”

Doctor Gideon considered Will for the first time. He seemed intrigued.

“And who are you to say that? I confess. It’s me. It has always been me. I killed a nurse, just like that man two years ago. Isn’t that enough to convince you?” 

Will shrugged.

“Then why did you kill your family the way you did?” Will asked, “That was nothing like the others.”

Doctor Gideon offered his own shrug in reply.

“Crime of passion,” he said coolly, “I lost my temper. It happens to the best of us.”

Will nodded.

“So it does, but you are not the best. You’re not even one of the best. I’ve seen the best. You are not the Ripper.”

Gideon smiled.

“You do know every word we say is being recorded by dear doctor Chilton,” he said.

Will huffed a laugh. Of course.

“I thought so,” He replied, “I’m familiar with the way Fredrick works.”

Doctor Gideon raised an eyebrow.

“First name basis. I’m intrigued.”

Will smiled. Fred couldn’t have had any cameras hidden well enough, so he had no reason to fear being seen.

“I also know he has always been someone who craved recognition,” Will said, “and you might not have only your thoughts in your head anymore.”

This seemed to spark something in the other man, who had been calm for the entirety of their conversation to that point.

“Are you saying that Doctor Chilton might have convinced me I’m the Ripper, when I’m not?” He asked.

Will shrugged.

“I’m saying either you’re lying, or someone made you think something that’s untrue,” he replied.

“Because you know for a fact that I’m not the Ripper,” Gideon concluded.

Will nodded.

“I do.”


	34. Fresh

Hannibal was pleasantly surprised to see Will when he opened the door. Will nodded at him and walked through into the office.

“Good afternoon,” Hannibal said. He knew his surprise would be obvious to Will, and he wondered what the purpose of the visit was.

“The Chesapeake Ripper is already in prison,” Will declared, “Has been for two years, according to Fred.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. 

“Fascinating,” he said.

Will laughed bitterly.

“You and I both know that is the most ridiculous lie we have ever heard,” he said, “but Fred is convinced, and what am I supposed to say? “Yeah, I know what it looks like, but I’ve met the Ripper, and he’s different,” that’s not going to end well for me.”

Hannibal smiled. Will was so clever.

“What are you planning to do?” 

Will frowned and began pacing along the shelves of books.

“Well, if you’re not going to kill me, then I guess I have to figure out a plan,” he said, looking back up to Hannibal.

“I told you before, Will. I have decided that the world is better with you in it. I do not intend to kill you.”

Will nodded, and Hannibal thought he must have been expecting that answer.

“How do I prove that Gideon isn’t the Ripper? I don’t exactly have any evidence other than my word, and now Fred has a recording of me telling Gideon himself that he’s not the Ripper. I have to prove it somehow.”

Hannibal nodded. 

“You have certainly put yourself in an odd position,” he mused.

Will had made things very difficult for himself. Hannibal began formulating a plan  to help him, but he couldn’t tell Will what it was. Will would only feel guilty for not telling Jack what was going on.

“I put myself in an odd position?” Will asked sarcastically, “I’m pretty sure all of this is your fault, whether directly or indirectly. I haven’t been going around killing people, if you’ll recall.”

Hannibal thought that was a very odd claim for Will to be making.

“If you will recall, you haven’t abstained from killing,” Hannibal reminded him.

Will grimaced.

“So that was real,” he said quietly, “I mean, I knew it was, but of course I didn’t exactly want to believe you had used me like that.”

Hannibal felt a pang of guilt. It had been necessary, in his mind at the time, to give Will the experience and exposure. Will had done wonderfully, and Hannibal had hoped that meant he would be more open to guidance.

“I apologize,” Hannibal said, and he really was. He was sorry he had ever lied to Will. 

Will, who had always relied on him to be honest when others lied. Will, who had valued honesty above all else. Hannibal had lied to him about something so hugely important. He had made a grave miscalculation.

Will shook his head.

“I don’t know if I believe you yet,” he said, “So you might as well save it until I know.”

That hurt. Hannibal hadn’t expected it to, but Will had never openly questioned his honesty before. He clearly had reason to now, but it stung nonetheless.

“What do you think of our old friend, Fred?” Hannibal asked, trying to hide his pain by changing the direction of the conversation.

Will chuckled.

“I didn’t expect to find that he’s been chasing after your coattails all these years,” he admitted, “But he followed you into the surgical field, and then into psychiatry? He would do better as a politician.”

Hannibal smiled. 

“In some capacity, that is what he does,” Hannibal pointed out, “Though I don’t believe he would ever confess to it.”

Will smiled and nodded.

“He’s not a very good psychiatrist,” he noted, “He must have done some top notch campaigning to get himself where he is.”

Hannibal let himself chuckle as well.

“He was a woeful surgeon as well. Many see his career change as him fleeing from embarrassment.”

Will hummed in thought.

“That makes sense. Maybe all I have to do is get you to say Gideon isn’t the Ripper. Fred has always had a strange obsession with you.”

Hannibal frowned.

“I believe he would point out an obvious conflict of interest, if you asked to have me consult. Not to mention he delights in disagreeing with me. My opinion would not change his mind, only increase his motivation to be right.”

Will sighed.

“Yeah. I know. I just can’t figure out the best way to prove that Gideon isn’t who everyone says he is.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I cannot offer my help to you in this capacity, and I do not believe you wish for it in any other. So I cannot help but wonder what brought you here today,” He said carefully.

Will laughed bitterly.

“You’re right about that. I needed to lay my eyes on you, and know what I was seeing. I needed to confirm that everything I know is true, and find out if you would kill me or not. I needed everything to be clear.”

Will walked up to Hannibal, keeping a fair distance between them which served to accentuate the chasm Hannibal had incidentally torn between them. Will extended his hand with command.

“Give me your keys,” he said, “I know you still have it.”

Hannibal produced his keys, absent of ornaments aside from the one he had never allowed to be lost or absent from his pocket. He handed them to Will with a painful glance at the little metal fish.

Will unclipped the fish that he had given Hannibal all those years ago. He pulled something from his own pocket and held it out in offering.

Hannibal accepted the object, finding it was the keychain he had sent Will in return.

“I’ll give this back to you when I trust you again,” Will said holding up the fish, “and you can give me that when you decide to be honest with me.”

Will extended his hand to return Hannibal’s keys.

Hannibal caught his wrist, forcing Will to look up and lock their gazes together. He took the keys and turned Will’s hand to place the small brain back into his palm.

“I swear,” Hannibal said, curling Will’s fingers around the small object, “I trust you with my life and my freedom, now. I will not lie to you ever again.”

Will pulled his hand away, frowning and growing red from both anger and surprise at the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze.

Will offered only a sharp nod before he walked out of the door.

\---

Whatever Will had been expecting, it was not what Hannibal had done. He looked down at the metallic fish dangling from his keys as he drove. It was well polished, obviously from the fond rub of fingers over the surface, and it was no longer completely the original colors.

The brain hung beside it, and would serve as a reminder of Hannibal’s words until they stopped making Will feel like he was drowning.

Will had always known that Hannibal held his freedom dearly, and his life was obviously one of his priorities. Everything Hannibal said to Will was a double edged sword. They would mean something to anyone, but they both knew they meant everything to Will.

Pulling up to the FBI building, Will shut off the car and tried to steel himself for the classes ahead of him. 

Jack met him just inside the doors, and Will frowned at him. He wasn’t standing as he usually did for an ambush. He was standing straight up his shoulders set and his feet apart, like he was ready for a fight. He never bothered doing that with Will, and Will had never given him reason to. He had a determined frown on his face, and Will worried what it meant.

“Jack,” Will said in cautious greeting.

Jack nodded curtly.

“Will Graham. I am putting you under arrest under suspicion of the murder of Danielle Acklain.”

Jack continued to recite Will’s rights to him as Will tried to process exactly what was happening. 

Will was escorted to a police cruiser, and several officers were there to witness it, along with Price and Zeller watching from a distance. Will kept his gaze down, and tried to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As November comes ever closer, I will be transferring my energy and focus to NaNoWriMo, so I don't think I will be able to update at all for the entire month. I am sorry, but that's just how things are going to go down. I'll have lots of stuff for you after, and I will update the first day of December, as soon as I possibly can. 
> 
> So, as the last chapter until December, I hope you enjoyed. Sorry for the cliffhanger.  
> Thank you for reading.


	35. Simmering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient. I actually managed to finish NaNo this year, and I am very pleased to say that I have also been working on my fanfictions over the break, so I have a few chapters that I will definitely be able to post on schedule. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Will ran his eyes over the pictures spread over the table. He tried not to move his hands, the sound of the cuffs clanking being a painful reminder of his situation.

Whoever had done this had known what they were about.

Danielle had her hair spread about her head in a dark halo, having been positioned ever so carefully. Her mouth was agape ever so slightly, and her eyes stared upward. Her hands were beside her, as if extended in friendship. Around one arm were scattered an assortment of flowers. Will recognized them as Rosemary, Pansies, Fennel, and Rue. Her dress had also been carefully positioned around her in flowing curves.

Will recognized the scene immediately.

Jack watched from the corner, with thick disapproval and disappointment being emitted from every pore in his skin. Will ignored him mostly, choosing instead to try talking to Alana, who sat only a few feet in front of him, across the table.

“It’s The death of Ophelia,” Will stated, “those are the flowers she presented before her death, and whoever did this made every detail exact, except for her hair color. In the painting, it’s more of a reddish brown. I still don’t know why I’ve been arrested for this.”

Alana pressed her lips together, and Will thought she might have been close to tears, but he tried not to meet her eyes. She slid another picture toward him and he looked at it.

His fishing lure. It was stuck into her tongue, hidden in all of the pictures he had already been shown. It had bled, leaving a dry trail of blood down her tongue to the back of her throat, and Will knew she would have still been alive when it was done.

“They also found several of your hairs, and a fingerprint of yours,” Alana explained.

Will didn’t want to believe it was true, but he knew Alana better than to question her honesty. Someone had done a precise job of framing him for this murder.

“I didn’t do this,” Will said.

Jack huffed from the corner.

“Will, do you have an alibi?” He asked.

Remembering the estimated time of death, Will had to shake his head.

“Exactly. You don’t have an alibi for any of the murders. You live alone, in the middle of nowhere, and you don’t socialize. You have to understand how this looks.”

Will let the words run through the calculating part of his brain.

Any of the murders. He was a suspect for more than just this. There was only one serial killer they would be able to try and add this killing to. It was poetic. Artistic. The Chesapeake Ripper.

“You think I’m the Ripper,” Will stated, letting his eyes flick between Jack and Alana.

“I don’t know,” Jack huffed, “but it sure doesn’t help that you have such a dangerous reputation.”

Will remembered the times Freddie Lounds had hanged him with his own words, and having Hannibal by his side when he spoke with hushed menace to her. Jack really was going to leave him here. 

“Will, we don’t think you did this,” Alana said, trying to be reassuring, “We just want to know what’s going on.”

Will huffed.

“Looks like the evidence is all there. You have to make the connections and follow where they lead. That’s what any sane person would do.”

Alana tilted her head.

“Do you feel like you are losing a hold of your sanity, Will?” She asked.

“I don’t want to talk to you about what goes on in my head, Alana. I never have, and you know it. I have a psychiatrist. I’ll talk to him if he has the guts to come.”

Alana frowned, and her brow furrowed. Will knew he had hurt her, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel sorry for it. The numbness grew within his chest and he didn’t have the energy to feel anything except anger.

“Why would he not come, Will?” Jack asked, latching on to the words Will had used.

Will turned to him and couldn’t bring himself to feel anger, frustration, annoyance, or anything. He knew his face would appear completely neutral, and he couldn’t make himself care.

“You’ll find out, I’m sure. Knowing what Fredrick Chilton is like, you’ll find out.”

\---

Hannibal stood in the doorway and studied Will.

Will spread his hands to show off the manacles tethering him to the table. 

“Has Fred told them yet?”

Hannibal took a step into the room.

“If I am correct, he will be telling them now. He is likely to tailor the information a bit, of course, but they will likely know next time they speak with you.”

Will nodded and waved to the chair across from him.

“Please, sit,” he said, “I'm sure you are correct. When are you ever not?”

Hannibal accepted the seat with his usual grace, but Will could see the small hints of his opinion of the situation.

His jacket had not been buttoned when he came in, so he didn't have to undo it to sit. His hair was combed perfectly back in a way that he hadn't done since they had started working together with the FBI. His mouth was pressed into a thin line and he clasped his hands together on the table in front of him.

“I have recently found that I am more often mistaken than I had thought,” Hannibal admitted.

Will nodded with a light huff.

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” he said, “did they show you the file?”

Hannibal frowned. Will slid the pictures over and watched as Hannibal looked over them.

“The death of Ophelia,” he noted.

Will nodded. 

“They're attributing it to the Chesapeake ripper. Now, I'm sure you can see why that is ridiculous. They found my hair and fingerprints. They found one of my fishing lures in her tongue.”

Anger flashed through Hannibal's eyes and Will shrugged.

“It does look like something the ripper would do, don't you think?” Will joked.

Hannibal's lips twitched, and Will knew he wanted to grimace. Only the likelihood of there being cameras and the two way mirror made him school his features in front of Will.

“It is certainly an artistic display,” Hannibal admitted, “but the ripper has never left any evidence before, as far as I have heard. I sincerely doubt he would have started now.”

Will nodded. 

“Not to mention,” Hannibal continued, “you are not the Chesapeake ripper.”

Will smiled wryly.

“Funny. I said the same thing to Abel Gideon, and look where I am now,” Will said.

Hannibal sighed.

“What do you want me to do, will?” He asked softly.

Will swallowed and let his smile fall a bit, giving Hannibal a sad look.

“I'm sure you'll figure something out. Just don't get thrown in here with me. That won't help either of us.”

Hannibal was about to reply when the door opened again and Jack glared at the pair of them.

“Doctor Lecter. Your time is up. I don't appreciate being played like a fool,” he said.

Will smiled at him apologetically over Hannibal's shoulder and offered a shrug that made the chain clank again. Hannibal nodded once before turning back to Will.

“Do not forget what I have said,” Hannibal said.

Will nodded and Hannibal walked out past Jack. Jack closed the door, keeping Will with no one to back him up or protect him from his wrath.

“What the hell were you thinking, Graham?” Jack shouted, “you didn't tell me you knew Hannibal. That is a conflict of interest! He shouldn't have been your psychiatrist.”

Will allowed the words to bounce off his skin rather than let them sink in like he would have only a few months prior. He fixed Jack with a cold, blank stare.

“I don't believe I asked for a psychiatrist, Jack,” Will said, “and I didn't want anyone digging around in my head. Did you know I had encephalitis, Jack?”

Jack was stunned, his jaw working and his face contorting in confusion.

“...What?”

Will nodded.

“Encephalitis, Jack. You want to know who caught it before it made me completely crazy and no longer useful? Hannibal Lecter. He got me into the hospital before any damage was done. All that happened while I was on a case for you. You didn’t notice a thing.”

“You’ve known him since you were a kid, Graham,” Jack shouted, apparently ignoring the cuts Will was making in his image, “You should have asked for a different psychiatrist to do the eval. I wouldn’t have cared if you decided to catch up with him in your own time. I needed a reliable source!”

Will stood, his hands anchored to the table, but having enough room to stand to his full height.

“I don’t care, Jack. I’m in here because you think I killed a woman, not because I lied to you about my psychiatrist. Get back to the point, or leave me the hell alone.”

Jack was again stunned into silence. Will was very rarely so confrontational, and Jack was clearly beginning to question just how well he knew his profiler.

“Listen, Jack. I didn’t kill her, and I’m not the ripper. You can see it, but you can’t explain it. That’s why you are here. You want me to give you something. To prove I’m innocent. I can’t do that, but it’s not my job to uphold the law anymore. It’s yours, and I trust you to do it.”

Jack frowned, but nodded sharply and left the room.

Several guards came through the door after he left and led Will to his new home. 

The cell was nicer than some he had seen, though he hadn’t really cared to notice. He hadn’t expected to ever be put in one. Will sat on the bed and rested his back against the wall. He crossed his legs in front of himself and closed his eyes.

After almost an hour of the relative silence of his cell, where the only other sounds were the inmates in the same hall, footsteps echoed down the hall and stopped just outside of the bars.

“I think you probably never expected to be in this position,” Fredrick Chilton said smugly.

“I’m not talking to you, Fred,” Will said genially.

There was a silence that let Will know exactly how well his attempt had embarrassed the unqualified psychiatrist.

“I don’t really care if you talk to me,” Fred continued, “I have one of the most mysterious and sought after minds in my hospital. I’m the new authority on Will Graham.”

Will opened his eyes and studied his old classmate. He stood obscenely straight and had a tight smile on his face that told Will how much he really, dearly cared that Will wouldn’t talk to him.

Will slid forward and stood. He walked up to the bars and set his elbows against them. He smiled at the way Fred flinched, wanting to step away.

“If only you were smart enough to write something convincing about me,” Will said, “do you remember the day you asked Hannibal to come to the end of term party?”

Fred gawked, completely speechless, and frightened.

Will nodded.

“Of course you do. He never did go to any of the parties, did he? And you chased after his coattails all the way to the field of surgery. How poorly you must have been to garner the reputation for being woeful. You fled to this field to avoid embarrassment, I’ve heard. Too bad no one knows that it’s really that you have been following Hannibal all your life. You’re nearly obsessed. Do you want to know why Hannibal never attended the parties in High school?”

Will could see the terror in Fred’s eyes now. Will’s memory and sharp tongue were cutting him to the quick and leaving him to dry. Something he had never wanted to do more than he did just then.

“Hannibal knew what kind of people would be there,” Will continued explaining, “people like you. How much it must have hurt that he preferred the company of a poor, grungy kid, prone to start fights with everyone. What did he possibly see in me, that you did not have?”

Fred tried to speak, then, his jaw working and his mouth still agape. He tried to clear his throat, but no sound would come out.

Will leaned his head forward, almost pressing his curls against the bars.

“Why don’t you ask him?” He whispered, “He’ll be back. To see me. He might even answer you.”

Fred was completely red and flustered when Will turned back to his bed and resumed his seated position, his eyes closed again. Hurried footsteps fled down the hall and to the stairs again. 

There was perfect silence in the hall for a few minutes after that. The other criminals gave him a moment of silent respect, having listened to every word that he had exchanged with their keeper.

“You know, he might not be too nice to you after that,” a voice said. 

Will opened his eyes, but didn’t look around for who had spoken. He knew.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Will replied, “Did you know, I’m the Chesapeake Ripper now?”

Abel Gideon clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Well, isn’t that interesting. I hadn’t expected to see you so soon, especially in this state. I had wondered what you did.”

Will nodded, though Abel couldn’t have seen it from the cell next to his.

“So, you’re off the hook, so to speak,” Will continued, thinking quickly.

“There really must be a good case against you,” Abel mused, “I wonder if they will use the recordings of our conversations.”

Will smiled. 

“If Fred has anything to do with it, which he will, they certainly will. I told you that I know you’re not the ripper. Now they think they know why I could be certain.”

Abel hummed thoughtfully.

“That is a problem for you,” he said, “I can’t help but wonder if you really are the ripper. It would certainly make sense.”

Will barked a sharp laugh.

“Not in the least bit,” he retorted, “The ripper has a medical background. He takes surgical trophies. He’s meticulous. I’m neither a doctor, nor a very neat person. I rather think Fredrick Chilton would be a better candidate than me.”

It was a gamble, but one Will was willing to make. It would at least stave off the boredom.

“Oh really?” Abel crooned, “I’m all ears, Mr. Graham. Why would our dear Doctor Chilton make a better Chesapeake Ripper?”

Will was pleased Abel was being so easy to guide.

“He was a surgeon, and he clearly has connections that would make all the killings easy for him to pull off. He even has a personal grudge against me, and could be framing me for his own murders. How fortunate for him that I make such a convenient scapegoat.”

Abel chuckled from the next cell.

“You are very clever, Mr. Graham. I’m so glad we can talk to one another. It was getting rather boring before you came.”

Will ducked his head to avoid the eyes of any cameras Fred might have put up and grinned wolfishly.

“Well, things are likely to get a lot more interesting,” Will replied in a low voice.


	36. Setting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting some work done behind the scenes

Hannibal listened to Jack lecture him, and could see the betrayal in Alana’s face as she heard of the lie he and Will had perpetuated. Alana would be easy enough to win over again, and he had never really cared much about Jack’s personal opinion of him.

“As both a psychiatrist, and Will’s friend, I believed the best thing for him was to not force him to speak to anyone he was uncomfortable with about his mental state,” Hannibal said calmly.

Jack waved his arms around in the air in distress.

“You didn’t bother to tell me when he might have been compromised as an agent,” Jack accused, “he had encephalitis, and I had no idea.”

Hannibal tipped his head. Will was playing some game, with Agent Crawford as a piece, and Hannibal was the other player. This would be interesting.

“It is not my place to tell you when Will is ill, Jack. It was completely up to Will to let you know that he was not feeling well. I think he likely did not because he wished to continue to be useful to you. Since you did not notice anything of it, I think he must have made the proper decision. Tell me, Jack. What would you have done, if you had known he had the infection?”

Jack was growing angry, and Will clearly hadn’t gone too easy on him during their discussion. 

“I would have pulled him off the case!” Jack declared.

Hannibal spread his hands.

“Did Will tell you which case he was on when the infection came to light?” 

Jack floundered for a moment, clearly trying to figure out when Will might have been acting strange. He eventually came up empty and shook his head.

“Then how can you be sure you would have been willing to work without his help?” Hannibal continued.

“I need to know who I can rely on,” Jack defended, “I need to know when one of my agents is compromised.”

Hannibal shook his head. He wasn’t surprised by how Jack was acting, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

“Will has been emotionally compromised by far too many of the cases you asked him to be on. I have tried to reason with both of you, to get him away from the detrimental environment, but you are both stubborn and press forward with just righteousness. Will would never have left the work, and you would never have let him go.”

Jack was livid now. Anger emanated from his every pore and he seemed to very nearly vibrate with it.

“Jack, maybe this would be a better discussion for a later time,” Alana cut in, always the peacemaker, “Right now, we need to focus on Will. What happened?”

Jack took one deep breath and shook his head.

“Only two people know,” he said, “And Will doesn’t want to talk to me.”

The other presumably the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal nodded. In truth, he thought, there were three. The killer, the Ripper, and Will.

“Who do you think he does want to talk to?” Alana asked.

All three of them knew one person that Will would talk to, whether it be about the case against him or something else. Alana seemed to be trying not to point that out too obviously.

Jack shook his head again, adamantly.

“I’m not letting Hannibal go in there. Not yet. Let’s see if Chilton can get us anything.”

\---

Hannibal was doing work. 

Truly, he never stopped working, but this was engaging his mind in a singularly delectable way, and it would be bitter poison if he let it fester too long.

Whoever had framed Will must have been clever, there was no doubt in Hannibal's mind about that, but Hannibal was more so. 

Hannibal looked over the desk of fishing lures. The FBI had taken most of them as evidence, but those that had been left idle for an obviously long time had been disregarded. There had been no evidence of tampering on any of the doors, but Hannibal knew Will had a habit of leaving the back door unlocked. He didn't consider any of his belongings worth stealing, and he needed to have people take care of his dogs so often that he never considered his house secure besides.

There had been carelessness with Will's things when the FBI had come, and Hannibal couldn't help but slide a few of his books back onto the shelf where they belonged. He let his gloved fingers trail along the spines as he walked, counting the times each had been read by Will in his mind.

Hannibal wondered where Will might have hidden something, if he had anything to hide. Will wasn’t the type to be so obvious as others. He would be careful and methodical. Depending on what he wished to hide, it may even have some intimate meaning. 

He would have more time to wonder, and he did not have it just then. Hannibal put that line of thought on hold for when he had the freedom to do as he pleased without having to worry about Will. He continued his search for something to lead him to the impostor killer.

There was the slightest smell, under all the FBI meddling, the dogs, and the overwhelming scent of Will. The one Hannibal searched for was something spicy and sharp. It was paired with overly manly soaps and excessive cologne. It was not from the FBI, and it most certainly did not come from Will.

Someone had been here. Someone had framed Will, and stolen Hannibal's identity to paste to him. 

There wasn't any viable evidence left after the FBI had come through, so Hannibal stepped back under the police tape and headed out.

On the drive back to Baltimore, Hannibal decided he needed to get some more information.

\---

Will looked Hannibal over from his place in what could only be described as a cage. They had identical stances, standing with their hands clasped behind their backs in a relaxed posture.

“You should know that every word either of us say is likely to be recorded,” Will said casually.

Hannibal nodded.

“I would expect nothing less from Fredrick.”

Will noted that Hannibal had discarded the usual title ‘our friend’, knowing Fred was listening. It made Will smile.

“So, Doctor Lecter, has Jack officially banned you from consulting?” Will asked.

Hannibal didn't bother to hide the smile that pulled at his lips.

“He has not, but I do believe I have lost some of his trust,” Hannibal replied.

Will nodded.

“Then you are still doing better than I am. I don't think I'm likely to get my job back, whether or not they figure out the truth of the crime.”

Hannibal pressed his lips together and Will could tell he was angry.

“Have you remembered what I have said?” Hannibal asked.

Will was glad they were on the same page.

“I've been chatting a bit with Doctor Gideon,” Will replied, knowing Fred wouldn't be able to understand their conversational meter, “it's been interesting, talking to someone who admitted to the crimes I'm being accused of. I think he is rather polite for a killer. It's really a shame the orderlies don't treat him well.”

There it was. Will knew Hannibal had caught the hint when he blinked once, slowly.

“I do hope they are treating you well,” Hannibal replied.

Will grinned wolfishly at his old friend.

“As well as I deserve,” he answered, “I'm afraid my sharp tongue has garnered both enemies and admirers for myself.”

And there was the rest of it. Will couldn't tell Hannibal outright who had framed him, knowing Fred would be listening and trying to take credit for anything he might reveal. He truly hadn't expected one of the orderlies to be the man, but he was glad he had found him out.

Matthew brown had been subtly kinder to Will than he was to the other inmates, and more than the other orderlies were to anyone. The predator clawed at the back of his pupils whenever Will met his eyes. 

Will had recognized him, after a while. He had caught glimpses of him several times before his incarceration. He may have even been standing behind the police tape at a couple of crime scenes Will had worked. It hadn't taken much more than the malicious joy Will saw in his eyes whenever Will snapped his teeth to convince him he had found the killer.

“Nothing untoward has happened, I hope,” Hannibal said.

“Oh, nothing that should worry you,” Will replied, “a few inmates have taken to urinating on the psychiatrists, but luckily you don't have to worry about that from me. It's a terribly rude thing for them to do.”

Hannibal smiled.


	37. Serving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing impatient as time stretches on. 
> 
> Changing POV.

Will relaxed onto his terrible prison mattress and closed his eyes.

Everything was set to go well. Hannibal now knew who he needed to focus on, and Will knew he was more than capable of getting him out. 

The slight breeze rustled through the leaves on the bank of the stream. Will breathed deeply and waded in a few paces. The water splashed up against his calves and cooled his feet. The stag followed him in and chuffed impatiently at his side.

Will reached out and sank his hand into the feathery mane of the beast. It was soft and smooth, and Will stroked the animal to placate it. 

Silver fish jumped from the dark water and cast beams of their own moonlight onto the surface of the stream. They each slipped into the current again and swam away, leaving only dark ripples in their wake.

A scuffle in the hall, and Will opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling and listened.

It was Miggs, the poor fellow on the side opposite Doctor Gideon. He was being put back into his cell by the disgruntled guards. He had been trouble again.

“I don't know why they even bother with a shrink for multiple,” said one of the orderlies as the door was closed and locked, “there's no hope for some people.”

The other man sighed heavily.

“It's a shame to have to see people like this, though. He had a life, once.”

Will thought that was rather kind of him to say about Miggs. The man was so far gone Will sometimes wondered if he ever really had been a person. 

The two men walked back down the hall and through the security doors. 

Will sat up and slid to the edge of his mattress. He leaned toward the bars close to Miggs’ cell.

“Miggs,” Will said, his tone low enough to avoid being picked up by the microphones, “Miggs. Are you still in there?”

There was a bit of sobbing and cooing from the cell, and Will wondered if he still even had enough of a mind left to do this.

Will waited for the hysterical sounds to wane before he tried again.

“Miggs. Are you there?”

There was a bit of shuffling as Miggs moved closer to the wall separating them.

“I'm here, Mike,” Miggs said.

Will shook with silent laughter. Miggs was really out of touch with reality. At least he would never be able to tell anyone who had been talking to him.

“Good. Who was messing with you? I heard a mean man.”

Miggs let out a pitiful sob, but he was thankfully keeping his tone low to match Will’s.

“Jacobs,” Miggs whimpered, “he says I'm a bad man. He is mean.”

Will nodded to himself. As much as Miggs was disturbed and at a disadvantage in this place, he was one of the worst inmates. Will hated being next to him, except for the rare occasion when he was pacified in this pitiful way. He was normally so abrasive and rude, it made Will chafe to be near him.

They sat, for hours, whispering to one another. Will wasn't a psychiatrist, but he had a way of getting into people's heads that he was finally taking advantage of. 

Let Fred deal with the consequences.

\---

Matthew Brown.

What a very plain name for a man who was trying to make an impression. 

Hannibal had found him quickly after he spoke with Will. There were not many orderlies who liked him, after all. Matthew had an unhealthy obsession with Will, and Hannibal wanted to ask him exactly what he planned to accomplish by getting him put into prison.

It was Matthew who opened the door to let Hannibal see Will today. Hannibal walked through, catching that unmistakable scent of spices and soap. Matthew gave him the same analytical look that he always did. He didn't seem overly interested in Hannibal, aside from being curious about his relationship with Will.

Will was standing in the relaxed pose he always did when put into the visiting cage, with his hands clasped behind his back. His head was tipped up today, and his eyes were closed. He had a thoughtful expression on his face and didn't move or open his eyes as Hannibal walked to stand in front of him.

“Good afternoon, Will.”

Will smiled softly and looked at Hannibal.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Lecter. Did you hear? My poor cell neighbor, Miggs, has been relocated. He attacked one of the orderlies yesterday, and they were both badly hurt. I don't know if either will make it.”

Will had taken to speaking like Hannibal as naturally as if it were second nature, and it made him smile. 

“How unfortunate,” Hannibal replied casually, “have they said whether he will be replaced or not?”

Will tipped his head in a sort of shrug.

“I imagine he will be. He will not be returning for quite some time yet in the least, and I would be grateful for a more polite neighbor.”

His tone was almost bored, but Hannibal could see the glint of pride as Will spoke. He had done a fine job so far, and they were close to a reckoning.

“How are the dogs?” Will asked then, his tone shifting.

Hannibal nodded.

“Alana is taking good care of them, you can be sure. I hear Winston continues to return home, though. He seems more concerned about you than himself. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by.”

Will nodded, and Hannibal could see the beginnings of a smile pull at his lips.

“At least he is predictable,” he mused, “I know some animals who are more difficult to understand. Where their loyalties lie is a mystery. Have you known some difficult pets, Doctor?”

Hannibal thought for a moment.

“I used to keep cochlear gardens, as a child, to attract fireflies. Firefly larvae would eat many times their weight in snails. Fireflies live such short lives, but they were true to their nature, leaving destruction in their wake. Better to be true for a moment than never know what it is to follow your nature.”

Will grinned, then. 

“That sounds like something you would enjoy,” he said, “did you ever catch the fireflies, and keep them in a jar until the end of their short life?”

Hannibal blinked.

“I did not. I never found more joy in their capture than I did in observing their nature. They were more beautiful to me free than in captivity.”

Will nodded. His hair was growing too long, and it fell well over his brow and nearly covered his ears. It served as a painful reminder to Hannibal of the time he had already been forced to endure in this place.

One problem with asking Will to act as he would, was that Hannibal couldn't see the true extent of the damage this place was really doing. He was poised like a cobra, and showed no weakness to anyone.

“I think Fred would have,” Will thought aloud, “he seems rather fond of capturing what interests him, and watching nature take its course on them. He would watch a songbird slowly perish of homesick, just to look at its colorful feathers.”

Hannibal would have to agree with that. 

“An early sign of psychopathy or sociopathy is animal cruelty,” he pointed out with no small amount of pleasure, “enjoying the suffering of another creature.”

Will nodded again. 

The door opened and Hannibal's time was up. He frowned and nodded to Will, who offered a wink in reply. Matthew ushered him out, and Hannibal was terribly frustrated with how slow all of their plans had to be in order to work. He wanted that man away from Will.

\---

Matthew opened the door of the cage, not bothering to put the cuffs on Will first. Will stepped out with purpose, looking around and basking in the feeling of freedom for the moment.

“I've turned off the mics,” Matthew said, “and there aren't any cameras either.”

Will didn't answer, or meet his dimpled smile. Silence was his weapon of choice for the moment.

“I've watched you,” Matthew continued, “I knew right away that you were different. When you saw the bodies, they weren't just dead to you. You see more.”

Will turned, then, looking over the other man.

“Why get me arrested?” He asked.

Matthew gave an apologetic smile.

“You didn't notice me,” he admitted, “I was at so many crime scenes. I tried to catch your eye when you came to see Gideon. You had something else on your mind. This was how I could get your attention.”

Will didn't react to that outwardly. He had his calm mask on, that Hannibal would have worn in his place.

“And now, what do you plan to do?”

Matthew had his eyes full of admiration and his mouth stretched into a perfect, dimpled smile.

“I'll prove you're innocent,” he declared, “you and I both know I'm the only one who can do that for you. I can clear your name. No one would dare accuse you again, after I prove this was wrongful imprisonment. It would look bad.”

Will wanted to strangle him then and there. He was so presumptive and arrogant. He expected Will to be grateful for all the trouble he was going through for him.

He was wrong. He would not be the one to prove Will was innocent. Having been in here at all was going to leave lasting damage on his reputation, not to mention his mind. He would forever be seen as suspicious, despite the fact that people would be too afraid to accuse him.

Outwardly, he smiled.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	38. Consuming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking the final steps of their plan.

“So, what are your plans for proving your innocence?” Gideon drawled.

It irked Will that he had such an uninterested tone no matter the topic of conversation. He was trying very hard to seem aloof and unaffected, but Will could see through it.

Looking up at the ceiling as he was prone to do now, Will hummed noncommittally.

“I don't expect I will have to do much myself,” he answered, “not that I have the power to alter my situation from where I am.”

Abel clicked his tongue how he did when he wasn't entirely convinced.

“Mr Graham, I think you are too clever to really believe that. You've been taking advantage of your situation since you were brought in. I just can't fathom what you plan to accomplish from here.”

Will quirked a smile and closed his eyes.

“I haven't the faintest idea what you mean.”

\---

Hannibal smiled at the scene he was leaving. 

It was finally time for a reckoning, and he was pleased with how he had done. Of course, he had left plenty of evidence that would point toward Will. He had to make it clear it was a scene from the same person who had framed him, despite that not being true. There was one single piece of evidence that would lead them to the true culprit. A few drops of blood where the man had been pricked by a thorn from a rose.

The dead girl bore a striking resemblance to that from the death of Ophelia scene, again linking the two deaths. 

Hannibal knew Beverly would easily pick out the evidence that didn't fit, and find the man who had left it. She believed in Will, despite their lack of social intimacy. Hannibal was glad to have her.

Hannibal knew he was unaware of the true extent of Will’s plans, but he knew what his part was and forced himself to be content with it. All would come to light eventually, and doing anything against his role could foil the plans Will was setting out.

The fact that Hannibal could not predict what Will would do filled him with both anticipation and pride. Of course it was dangerous to leave such an unknown variable out of his control, but he was ever curious to see what Will would do.

Now that the scene was set, it was time again that he could see Will. He had been keeping his visits well apart, to not garner suspicion for himself.

The drive was not as long from the small lot as it would be from his home, but that was good for him. He was bursting with desire to see Will again. 

Hannibal forced himself not to fuss over his appearance as he walked up the steps of the hospital. He knew he looked just as fine as usual, and there was no reason to worry. Will had never minded anyhow.

Fredrick Chilton met him just inside, giving him reason to pause. Fred very rarely decided he needed to interfere with Hannibal's visits, though he had expressed his bewilderment of them frequently. Fred smiled his obnoxiously false smile and waved for Hannibal to follow him. 

Hannibal followed, but wanted nothing more than to see Will. 

“Will Graham has been quite a trouble maker recently,” Fred commented, as if he were simply making a remark about the weather.

“I was not informed he had done anything wrong during his stay,” Hannibal replied coolly.

Fred pivoted on his heel as they were halfway down the hall. 

“Oh, of course, he is far too clever about it. I can't prove he has done anything, but he has caused me some honest trouble. He told you about Multiple Miggs attacking that orderly,” Fred said, adding an inquisitive tone despite them both knowing he knew very well what the answer was.

“Yes, though Will is certainly not to blame for that,” Hannibal answered, letting a lightly threatening tone color his words.

“Oh, of course I have no evidence to give you, but Will would whisper and talk to Miggs for hours on end. I know you two are close, but you have to admit he has an aptitude for the psychological. Surely you aren't so blind to think he couldn't have manipulated those around him.”

Hannibal was not happy with Fred for this line of conversation. 

“I think you are set upon proving him a monster. It would do wonders for your reputation if you caught such a creature as you would have us believe him to be.”

Fred turned and continued down the hall to the security doors, his gait ever slow and arrogant.

“I have the psychopath triumvirate. He's charming, focused, and ruthless. Of course the charm is debatable.”

It was a weak attempt at humor, and Hannibal was not amused.

“Is there a point you are wishing to reach, Fredrick?” Hannibal asked, choosing not to indulge him any longer.

Fred stopped at the door, poised to unlock it and let Hannibal through. He turned with a smile that betrayed his nervous arrogance. He might not be a complete fool after all.

“Will Graham is more dangerous than any of us thought. He may or may not be truly guilty, and what you believe is up to you, but he is dangerous. Whatever you do, you've been warned.”

With that, Fred let Hannibal through, giving him a solemn look as if he had just revealed some terrific secret.

Hannibal nodded to him politely and made his way to the end of the row, where Will was waiting with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.”

“Hello, Will.”

\---

Hannibal was irked, Will could tell. He stood a bit more stiff, his shoulders rolled a bit less naturally, his hands were a bit more still.

“You know, the orderlies here have come to the conclusion that I have the ability to use mind control. It's amusing that they think I have any control, in my situation,” Will mused.

Will knew Hannibal would find it funny, both their superstitions and his attitude about it. The slight twitch of his lips betrayed that he was indeed amused. 

“I hope you do not feel you have no control,” he replied, a dry quality to his voice from his lingering bitterness from whatever was fraying his nerves.

“Why is it that I have never been more in control than now, when I have so little?” Will thought aloud.

The words were meant to smart and sting, and it had worked. Hannibal rolled his shoulders stiffly and offered a weak smile. 

“I am sorry you feel that way. I do hope you will be proven innocent quickly and released. You will surely gain a new feeling of power when you do, and have agency over your own life once again.”

Will knew then, that the final trap was set. Hannibal had set a scene that would lead the investigation to the truth. It was perfectly aligned with what he had managed to do from inside. Matthew had been more than happy to do a favor for him.

“Perhaps, though I would point out “innocent” is not one of the potential rulings. I can only be found not guilty. Words are powerful.”

Hannibal nodded in agreement.

In Will’s conversations with Abel Gideon, he had found the other man to be extremely proud. Though the same could be said for Hannibal, they wore it differently. Abel seemed proud, when Hannibal only typically came across as confident. It might have been partly that Will knew for a fact that Hannibal had been a successful killer for years while Abel had been caught after his first. He might be the only one who saw the difference.

Abel was also less delicate and eloquent when he spoke, which could be part of why he tested Will so much. He was occasionally even crass with his words. Will had come to learn he was rude to the psychiatrists, which he could understand, having never liked most of them, but he was unnecessarily so.

Had Will allowed himself to be so changed by Hannibal that he could only compare everyone he spoke with to the other man? He was doomed to constant disappointment, then.

“Lost in thought?” Hannibal asked after a long pause.

Will sharpened his gaze on the other man.

For once in Will's life, he felt totally in control. He had the power to make or break Hannibal, and had him at his complete disposal. He knew Hannibal would do almost anything he asked him to, and would not lie to him. Hannibal wanted to regain his trust.

Will smiled.

“Not lost.”


	39. Devouring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension grows

Hannibal’s apprehension was growing. 

The last few times he had spoken with Will, there had been something different. Will’s tongue was sharper, he was serrated. There was something dark behind his eyes, like a prowling wolf that he hadn’t met yet. Something was wrong, but Hannibal didn’t know what it was.

Jack begrudgingly showed him the crime scene photos, and Hannibal was given a full breakdown of what they had found.

Everything pointed at Will, but a bit too obviously. Will was in prison, so it was clear he hadn’t done it, and they had taken a second look. That was when Beverly had caught it. 

The blood. Just as Hannibal had intended. 

Will was innocent, and the entire team knew it. It was only a matter of getting him released now. 

“I’d say this scene was almost gift wrapped,” Beverly said, working as she spoke to Hannibal, “I’d say the killer is dumb for trying to frame Will while he’s in prison, but everything else he’s done other than that proves that he’s smart. Something doesn’t add up.”

Hannibal peered casually over the tables of evidence. 

“You should not disregard your intuition,” Hannibal said, “but you must find the evidence to back it up. Have you found anything that would suggest this was anyone other than you expect?”

Beverly glared at the bits of fabric and dirt as if she could make them make sense by sheer willpower.

“No,” she admitted, “the first one didn't make sense because Will is too smart for all _this_.”

She waved at one side of the table, which must be where she was putting evidence that pointed obviously to Will. Hannibal couldn’t be sure, though he had a certain level of intuition for this kind of thing, and it was the kind of thing Will had always differed from others on. His patterns only made sense to himself.

“And now it doesn't make sense because whoever it is has to be smarter than _this_.”

She waved at a separate table, clearly frustrated. 

“If you are right, I'm sure something will show it,” Hannibal offered, though he knew very well there was nothing to show who was truly responsible.

Beverly shrugged, sighing dramatically. She seemed intensely frustrated, but determined. She continued to pour over the evidence, now in silence, signaling to Hannibal that their conversation was over.

Hannibal walked back out, passing Zeller and Price on his way. They had their heads together as they examined something on one of the desks. Price glanced up briefly as he walked through, but neither offered any greeting or comment.

Hannibal stepped out into the cool evening air, taking a deep breath in.

One more day of Will being confined in that sorry excuse for a hospital. One day closer to his release. One day closer to finding out what the extent of his plan was.

\---

Will stepped out into the warmth of the sunlight. He turned his hands over, drinking in the sensation. Matthew held the door open for him, scanning Will's form with an interest that felt intrusive. Will decidedly didn't react.

Under his arm, Will held the box that contained all the belongings that had been confiscated by the hospital at his admittance. He could tell Fred had rifled through them during his stay. Fred had never put much stock in privacy when it came to Will. 

An officer drove his car up in front of the hospital and stepped out. He handed the keys to Will and got a gruff thanks in return.

Will slumped into the car and set the box in the seat next to him. He started the engine and set his jaw when he caught sight of the two key chains that hung side by side.

Will managed to keep himself together until after Alana left him with his dogs.

Once she was gone, Will felt him muscles relax and he almost collapsed on the floor. He managed to make it to his mattress, not bothering to notice everything that was out of place or still missing.

Everything that had happened crashed down on his head, and his bones ached. He felt a pressure on his chest and struggled to breathe. Everything was wrong. He had done so much wrong.

Will had teamed up with the Chesapeake Ripper to get himself out of jail, and a man had died because of it. Beverly had shown him the pictures. Hannibal was an artist, and a murderer. 

For years, Will had been friends with someone who could kill without giving the life he would take more than a passing thought. Will had told him things he never would have said to anyone else, but should never have been said to a killer. Will had talked about murder, and killing, and how the darkness in him reveled in it all, with him. 

Then, after learning the truth, he had still looked to Hannibal when he needed help. He had still gone behind Jack's back to manipulate the system, with a killer. The most hunted killer in North America, and probably the world, but Will knew he hadn't been told everything about Hannibal’s past yet.

Two killers sat at Will's feet and asked for acceptance. Will hated them both. He hated Hannibal more. He hated how Hannibal could make him not hate him at all.

And he hated being able to love the killings. Hannibal must have known, at least in part, that Will could love the killings. He must have seen the beginnings of it in his young mind and nurtured it.

How long had Hannibal been feeding his darker side from the palm of his hand?

Will lay on his bed, shedding silent tears and muffling every painful sob that threatened to escape his chest. He did not want to give Hannibal even that much.

He didn’t move from the bed for at least an hour, not acknowledging when the dogs would curiously bump into him. 

Will took the two key chains that had once meant so much to him, and unhooked them from his keys. He held them in the palm of his hand as he walked to his desk. He dropped them unceremoniously into the tackle box he didn't use anymore, and shut it.

Immediately, Will felt like he could breathe again. He had taken a direct action, made a decision. Now he could go forward.

With a sharp whistle, Will called all the dogs to the door and set off into  the field for a walk. 

The dogs were glad to see him, and Winston stayed by his side like a guardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was any of that necessary? No.   
> Did I know any of this would happen when I started writing this fic? Also no.   
> BUT, I am both a masochist and a sadist, apparently. So, have fun.


	40. Destructive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Hannibal's mind palace

Hannibal tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. Will had been released, but he hadn't  contacted Hannibal yet. He must have been given his things back, so he should have a phone. He had been out for two days, but hadn't called or come by.

Hannibal very rarely worried, but he was very nearly frightened by the ideas he mulled over to explain why Will had been silent.

Entering the lecture hall, Hannibal could see Will busying himself with papers. He seemed more energetic and less lost in thought than Hannibal had ever seen him. Will had always worked best inside his own head.

After a moment of silent watching, Will straightened and sighed. He turned to Hannibal with a completely neutral expression, though he tipped his head and studied Hannibal.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter. As you can see, the Bureau gave me my job back as their way of apology. I don't know if Agent Crawford will have the courage to ask for my help again, but at least I have my classes back.”

His tone was cold and distant, nothing like the warm friendliness Hannibal had grown accustomed to over the years. 

“Are we no longer on a first name basis?” Hannibal asked, feeling a tightness in his chest in anticipation of the answer.

Will’s eyes turned a cold shade of grey and he slid a file of papers into his bag.

“I'm more comfortable the less personal we are,” he replied, “and we don't even know each other any more. I don't want you to come here again. I want to cancel all future sessions with you, and I don't want to see you again.”

Hannibal felt a sharp pain in his chest, and it was reminiscent of being impaled with a spear, but he only blinked in response to the sensation.

Will clearly noticed, but seemed to be neither pleased or sorry for it. 

“I see,” Hannibal said, knowing the strain in his voice would be apparent to Will. 

Will had always been able to see him. That was one of the things that had drawn Hannibal to him in the first place. Hannibal wanted to be seen.

There was no more to be said, Hannibal knew. Will was as stubborn as anything, and he was determined. If Hannibal were to earn back his trust, he would have to find some other means of obtaining it.

The walk back to his car was as silent outside his body as it was inside his mind. The halls of his memory palace echoed with his steps, accentuating the hollowness of each room. The structure he had been built over time, with Will often in mind. The severance of their connection left him feeling almost more alone than he could remember.

 

Hannibal sat at the desk in his study and contemplated what he should do. He closed his eyes.

Down the corridors of his mind palace, he wandered, searching for the answer to his circumstance. 

Will had never demanded the most ornate or elegant rooms, and they had never suited him either. He lived in classrooms and libraries, and a courtyard with cherry trees. They were by no means plain or ugly, but he hadn't entered the grand cathedrals.

He found Will there, in a classroom they had shared. His young, bright eyes glittered up at him and he offered a goofy grin.

Hannibal took a seat at one of the desks, facing Will.

The conversation played, Will listening to a nearby group of friends as they discussed a mass murder that had happened a few states away. He turned to Hannibal, unaware how his pupils had blown wide at the images in his head.

“They must have been killed by someone close to them,” he noted, not truly seeing Hannibal. Instead, Hannibal could tell he stood in the scene of the crime, soaking in every detail. “Those kinds of injuries are intimate, and personal. No burglar or random killer would do something like that.”

Hannibal had smiled in wonder and appreciation for his friend’s unique ability. Even back then, Will had seen the beauty in killing.

“Do you think they deserved it?” Hannibal had asked, keeping his tone playful.

Will had blinked, and furrowed his brow.

“The killer thought so,” he said, “this was a build up of anger. Resentment over time, inflating in his chest until it burst. I think they did.”

The conversation had continued, but Will faded from the room in Hannibal's mind palace.

Hannibal walked to the courtyard, and found Will again. He lay on his back with his eyes closed, under one of cherry trees that were perpetually in bloom for him. The light petals fluttered down around him, occasionally landing on his nose or eyelashes were he would use a quick breath to blow them away.

Hannibal sat in the grass next to him, watching his dark curls rustle in a light breeze.

“You know, I think working in the FBI would be cool, but I imagine it's a hard field to get into.”

Hannibal had hummed in agreement, though his head tilted curiously.

“I would understand that,” he had said, “only the exceptional should be accepted into the ranks. It is a daunting task set before their agents, no matter what the direction.”

Will huffed a laugh.

“And the psych portion of the testing is to weed out the weak,” he mused.

Hannibal had realized, then, that Will might have a difficult time passing that portion of the testing, but he had hoped on his behalf that he would be convincing in his stability and sanity.

“If they do not accept you, they will have made a mistake,” Hannibal had said, showing a rare display of protective affection, “you already show great potential as an agent, and your skill can only improve.”

Will laughed, clear and relaxed. His shoulders shook and his mouth stretched into a grin. His eyes were still closed, but he opened them when a petal had fallen directly onto his lower lip. He let out a puff of breath and it fluttered over his face, falling back down to be blown upward again by his controlled breaths.

“I'm sure they've got better profilers than me,” he said after a stray gust of wind sent the petal tumbling over his cheekbone and onto the grass, “and having an empathy disorder probably isn't seen as a great strength in their field.”

Will had never been officially diagnosed, but several school counselors and temporary therapists had noted his differences and offered him similar explanations.

“I would argue that natural talent gives you an advantage over those who must teach themselves the same skill you were born proficient in,” Hannibal had argued.

Will laughed again, letting his eyes flutter closed, his dark lashes brushing his tan cheeks.

Will faded from that place as well, leaving Hannibal alone in his courtyard of trees. He stayed for a moment, watching the petals fall to the grass.

Hannibal stood, knowing where he would find Will next.

Hannibal opened the door to his office and found Will facing the shelves of books. He didn't acknowledge Hannibal's presence as he walked in and stood by his desk. Only once Hannibal leaned himself against the desk and faced him did Will speak.

“I'm slowly vanishing from the rooms in your mind,” Will said, humming lightly under his breath, “is this what despair is for you?”

Hannibal sighed, slumping into an undignified slouch.

“I have never been able to predict you, but I allowed myself to believe I could. I do not know where to go from here.”

Will turned to him, his face expressionless and his posture natural.

“You are letting yourself believe that there is nothing you can do,” he accused, “you, who have always been in control. You have never let me take the lead. This is how you are rewarded. Do you think I can truly be happy while I am forcing you to do this?”

He waved lazily to the office. He walked toward Hannibal, his steps long and slow. He stopped, his shoes an inch from Hannibal's.

“Do you think I would really say any of this? Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought. You have to decide your own course of action. I'm not yours to use.”

Hannibal opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, whatever that means to each of you. <3


	41. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will realizes a few things about himself and Hannibal

Will read the article through several times, an amused smile on his lips and a rhythmic tapping from his pen against the desk. Matthew had done well with his favor.

“Doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good,” Hannibal's voice echoed through his head, causing him to frown and his hand to still the tapping pen.

He couldn't get the thick accent to leave his thoughts, or get Hannibal out of his head. Everything he did felt tainted by Hannibal, and he didn't feel like he could be sure any of his actions were his own anymore.

“Yes, it does,” he thought back, “which is why knowing how Hannibal is struggling makes me feel justified.”

The small Lithuanian voice in his head tutted, reprimanding him like a child.

“Then why are your thoughts always turned to him? You do not wish a just amount of pain on him, and you want to forgive him. Are betrayal and forgiveness not the closest things to falling in love?”

Will tried to shut the voice up, but he knew it was going to be a useless effort. Hannibal had infected his every molecule by this point.

“This is about Fredrick,” he reminded the voice, “Fredrick never really did anything bad. And nothing really bad is happening to him anyway. I'm not a righteous Saint.”

The voice hummed against the inside of his skull.

“He has done nothing bad, aside from sins of the exact nature his punishment is coming to him in,” it said, “if not righteous, then poetic. Perhaps you have a plan for Matthew as well.”

Will huffed to himself, wishing the voice in his head could be his own. He wanted to forget about Hannibal, but the mere act of thinking became a reminder of him in every breath.

“I don't care about Matthew,” he gritted back.

The voice huffed in his head.

“If not you, then who do you expect will exact justice on him? He is not a blameless man.”

Will tried to read the article again, but couldn't focus on the bits of conversations that were written out. Words that he had said, knowing the recordings would be kept, and available to someone with keys and motivation. Words that had been aimed to not only irritate, but slowly fester under the skin of the man who had imprisoned him, and earned notoriety from his mere presence.

“I do not expect justice for every man,” Will ground into his own mind, “I only help it along where I must. The law will catch up with him eventually.”

Will shut out the voice as it tried to point out the flaws in that way of thinking, allowing himself to wade into the stream in his mind. 

“Will.”

Will opened his eyes to see Alana standing in front of his desk. He smiled, but he wondered why she was there.

“Lost in thought?” she asked, seeming nervous talking to him.

Will shook his head.

“I haven’t been lost for a while. How can I help you?”

“You haven’t been going to your therapy sessions with Hannibal since you got out of the hospital,” she said.

Will sighed and stood, arranging some papers unnecessarily.

“You mean prison. That place doesn’t deserve to be called a hospital,” he bit out, trying not to sound too harsh, “but no, I have not been going to therapy with Hannibal.”

Will leveled his gaze at her, wondering if she was afraid of him, after she saw him as a killer for far longer than she should have.

“I want to ask you why,” she said.

Will nodded.

“I didn’t think it would really be acceptable anymore. Jack knows about his conflict of interest now, and I didn’t think it would be necessary for me to get therapy anymore. I don’t expect to be asked on any more cases.”

Alana looked pained, like her friend had just been hurt and she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Has something happened?” She asked, “He hasn’t talked about you recently. I didn’t really notice he talked about you before, but he stopped.”

Will sighed, turning away from her.

“I don’t really think you need to concern yourself with us,” he said.

“It’s just hard to know where you are with each other,” Alana said, desperation showing in her face and her tone.

Will gave her a dry smile.

“We know where we are with each other. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Alana looked hurt, but Will couldn’t make himself apologize. He wanted to fix it. Make her feel appreciated and needed. He wanted her to be his friend. He just didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to have anyone get too close to him just then.

“Thank you for worrying about me, Alana,” Will offered, “But I can worry about myself from now on.”

Alana nodded sharply before turning and walking away. 

The Will Graham that would have followed her, would have pouted like a wounded animal, or would have called her immediately to apologize, had died. He had been killed by spending time in reality, where everyone lied, and evil lurked behind every smile and glint in an eye.

\---

“Will. Have you seen the news?”

Will had been surprised to get a call from Jack, but had answered. Hearing these words was a surprise, more than it would have been to be called to a crime scene.

“No.”

“Then turn on your TV and watch.”

Jack hung up, and Will followed the directions.

His breath caught when he saw the pictures.

Matthew Brown. He had been murdered. His eyes were missing, and his hands had been cut off. They lay under his feet that hung almost a meter off the ground. A noose was around his neck, and his ankles were lashed together. His chest had been opened, and Will could guess that his heart was missing.

Will grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. 

He was needed at Quantico.

\---

“I didn’t think you would ask me to help again,” Will told Jack honestly when he walked in.

Jack nodded.

“I wasn’t sure you would help, but when I saw this, I knew we needed you.”

Will walked into the lab and was met by Beverly. Price and Zeller were at a table off in the corner, and hadn’t noticed him.

“Will. It’s good to have you back. Don’t freak me out like that again, okay?” Beverly joked, grinning at him.

Will smiled at her. She had been better to him than anyone else on the team. 

“You’re not going to believe this, Jack,” Zeller said, walking up to them quickly, “The guy’s brain was removed.”

Jack frowned.

There was no incision, or cut, or anything to show that. Was it taken out through his eyes?” Jack demanded.

Zeller shook his head enthusiastically.

“Egyptian style,” he said, “through the nose. They used to hammer a hook through and pull the brain out piece by piece before mummification.”

Will nodded, walking toward the body that lay on the table.

“The ancient Egyptians didn’t consider the brain to be a necessary or useful organ. They would discard it during embalming. The killer didn’t think this man used his brain well enough. He didn’t deserve to have one if he wasn’t going to make use of it.”

Zeller returned to his station in silence, apparently not very comfortable with Will’s presence. Jack walked up to stand beside Will at the table.

“Why the eyes? The Hands? Tell me what I don’t know.”

Jack wasn’t as loud or as rude to Will now, but Will wasn’t sure if it was for fear or guilt.

“If they eye offends, pluck it out,” Will replied, “The killer thought he had committed acts that were sinful, or poorly thought out, with his eyes and his hands. He had laid his eyes on something that was not his. He used his hands to obtain it. He should have killed himself for his sins. That’s why the noose.”

Jack was silent for a moment, before asking.

“What was he trying to get, that the killer didn’t think he should have?”

Will didn’t answer.

“The kill that got me out,” he said, “Check that blood. Compare the DNA to him. I have a hunch.”

Jack nodded to the team, signaling them to do just that.

It hadn’t been true. Will didn’t have a hunch. He knew very well Hannibal had planted Matthew’s blood at the scene. He knew who killed Matthew. He knew what Matthew had laid his eyes on, what he had worked to gain, and what decisions he had made that had not utilized his mind properly.

Will refused to talk to Hannibal about it.


	42. Construct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone does their best to get in between Will and Hannibal

Hannibal knew Will would not allow himself to come. He was too proud to come to Hannibal, even after Matthew's death. He had made a decision, and he would stick to it until something changed his mind.

His gift to Will had not been an attempt to change his mind, or endear himself to Will in any way. He had wished to do it for the both of them, so Matthew had died.

Now it was simply a matter of time before one of them made the next move. Theirs was a game of opportunity and precision, where turns were not taken, but made.

Hannibal wished he had Will's company for this dinner, as it would have been more meaningful for both of them now, but he was resigned to the isolation of that time. Will would either come back, or he would not. Hannibal would not make that decision for him.

\---

Music burst to life as Will laid his eyes on this most recent body.

Something so close to where Hannibal lived. He wouldn't be pleased. 

The haunting notes fell in line behind Will's eyes, vibrating in his skull and leaving their taste on his tongue. 

Will walked up to the body, absorbing the information Jack was spouting without really listening. 

_ Had to cut you open to get a decent sound out of you. I’m doing everyone a favor by getting you out of the orchestra. I’ve been wondering about how you would sound as a cello, and here we are. I found someone to serenade, so you become my instrument. _

_ See how well I play. _

Yes. Hannibal would be terribly displeased with this. Not only so near him, but a message to him from an obsessed admirer. He would only see them as one step up from Fred. 

“He treated the vocal cords,” Will stated, “You’ll find rosin, from him playing, and olive oil, lye, some other things depending on how well he knows the craft. He probably does this kind of thing a lot. This isn’t his first kill, but it’s his first display. This is a gift for someone. He’s trying to impress them.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. Will usually took longer, but he didn’t need to with this one. Maybe he never would again. The scales had fallen from his eyes, and he could see clearly now.

“And you know all this how?” Jack asked, not suspicious, but unnerved.

Will remembered listening to Hannibal talk about catgut strings for nearly an hour as he played his harpsichord. Will had laid down on the floor, feeling the plush carpet underneath him as he closed his eyes and listened. 

“I had a musically gifted friend,” Will said, not offering any more by way of explanation. 

Jack seemed to move past it with more respect than he would have before Will had been incarcerated.

Will was beginning to think it had really been good for him to have stayed in the hospital under Fred's care. It had given him time to think, and some sort of street credit that kept everyone else at a safe distance. 

Once everything was back in the lab, Beverly confirmed Will's suspicions.

“He was shrinking and tanning the cords,” Will said, “made them easier to play. We're going to want to look for someone who is an expert with string instruments. They might make their own strings, but if they do then they probably don't advertise it. They will have strings that they refer to as gut or catgut.”

“Refer to?” Price asked.

Will nodded, offering a frown.

“At least some of it is human gut. They likely won't point that out to anyone, though.”

Zeller swallowed nervously and Price scrunched his nose in disgust.

“Keep working,” Jack snapped at their pause, “I want this psychopath behind bars.”

Will didn't bother sparing Jack a glance. He stared at the body stretched out on the table. The haunting melody vibrated in his teeth and jaw. Will wondered if the others would be able to hear it if he opened his mouth.

\---

When the images came across Hannibal's screen, he frowned.

This man wanted his attention. He was desperate for it. He was reckless. Tobias would have to be more careful in the future to avoid drawing attention to both of them. All that, assuming he was not caught.

Will likely already knew all of this, except the identity of the killer. Hannibal was the only one fortunate enough to have all the information to put together already.

There was opportunity here, but Hannibal was unsure if it was best suited for himself or for Will. Perhaps he would have to give Will a clue, to lead him the correct way, and let Will decide which of them would take action.

Tobias would want to talk soon, so Hannibal saw no reason to keep him waiting.

Slipping into his coat, Hannibal walked out of his office and made his way to a small string instrument shop. The man inside was surprised to see him, but pleased.


	43. Repair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes to interview Tobias

The package of violin strings on Will’s desk surprised him, but not as much as they might have under different circumstances. He checked the labels and they told him where he should be looking.

The shop was small, though Will considered it and realized that of course it was. He walked in and the bell above the door rang softly, the sound carrying all the way through the quiet building.

The tall man that walked through the door to greet him didn’t offer a smile. He looked Will up and down, seeming to gauge his levels of threat.

“Good afternoon,” the man said.

“Hi,” Will offered in response, “I’m here to ask you about your violin strings.”

The man’s eyes sparkled at that. Will had hit on his interest.

“I carry high quality strings,” Tobias said, beckoning him in further, “I have steel, if that is what you would prefer, but I always recommend using gut. It lends to a cleaner, more pure sound.”

Will nodded, remembering the tone in Hannibal’s voice as he used almost the same words.

“How much do you know about the making of gut strings?” Will asked, taking the string offered, and rolling it between his fingers. The man tensed almost imperceptibly, and Will kept his eyes on the string.

“Might I ask your name?” Tobias said, trying to sound casual and conversational.

Will nodded.

“I’m Will Graham, I teach at the FBI academy.”

That sparked his interest, as well as his apprehension.

“Then, I can’t help but wonder what you are doing here, mister Graham,” Tobias said, forcing calm into his voice.

Will hummed in agreement.

“You must have heard about me from Tattlecrime,” Will said, letting himself sound defeated, “Have you also heard about the most recent murder?”

Tobias tipped his head, trying to figure out why Will was there.

“I hear someone cut open a man and tried to play his vocal cords like a cello,” He replied.

“Tried?” Will asked, twirling the string in his fingers, as if absently.

Tobias nodded.

“There are very specific things one would have to do by way of treating the cords for them to be playable at all. You can’t just cut someone open and play them.”

Will had him then, but he nodded and frowned.

“That’s why I came to you,” Will said, “Do you know anyone in town who might have that kind of knowledge? We found evidence that the cords were treated, and I want to know if you can help us at all.”

Tobias smiled, having bought the excuse. 

“I would be glad to help you, Agent Graham. Might I ask how you heard of me, or why I am the person you have come to?”

Will smiled.

“My friend, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, told me you were the man to come to. He seemed to be impressed by your work.”

The realization hit Tobias harder than Will had expected. His smile disappeared and he took an inadvertent step away. Hannibal must have really earned his trust somehow. Tobias turned toward a shelf and picked up a string that had wooden blocks attached to each end. He seemed to study it for a moment as he turned back towards Will.

“I understand ‘friend’ is not a title many earn when it concerns Doctor Lecter,” Tobias said, “Yet you readily call him that.”

Wll nodded, turning toward the window, still twirling the string in his own fingers.

“Well, I’ve known him for most of my life, and he has only ever lied to me once before. I can readily consider him a friend, I think,” he replied.

Turning back to Tobias, Will saw that he had one of the blocks in his hand and he was spinning the string around as if it were some sort of lasso. That might not have been tasteless, but it was definitely odd enough to make Will pause.

Tobias stepped towards Will and swung the string from the side towards him. Will lifted the string he had fastened in his hand, holding it taut and intercepting the other man’s string before it made contact with him.

Tobias’ string quickly fastened itself around Will’s and Will pulled hard, yanking Tobias forward as he lifted his knee. His knee connected to Tobias’ stomach, and the wind knocked out of him. He fell to his knees and released his grip on his weapon. 

Will picked both the strings up and set them on a nearby table before he drew his gun. He aimed at Tobias with steady hands and waited for the other man to regain his strength.

When Tobias stood and turned to him, he seemed unsure of how much danger he was in. He looked at the gun warily.

“Are you going to call in the other agents?” He asked.

Will shook his head.

“I had other plans,” he said, “but first, tell me what you know about Hannibal.”

Tobias stayed still.

“I wonder if you know as much as I do,” he said, trying to get under Will’s skin.

Will huffed a laugh. 

“I know more about Hannibal Lecter than anyone else. Even Hannibal. I wonder if he told you about me,” Will mused, “Show me where you make your strings.”

Will flicked the gun slightly toward the door he knew would lead to a set of stairs and the place Tobias had been using as his secret workshop. Tobias hesitated, but slowly walked toward the door with his long strides.

“Doctor Lecter told me he had a friend,” Tobias said as he opened the door. “I didn’t think it would end up being an FBI bloodhound. How long has he been using you? Would you even know it?”

Will set his jaw. There had been a time, not too long ago, that he hadn’t known he was being used. 

“Friends don’t use friends, Tobias,” Will said, “Hannibal has only lied to me once, and I still have yet to forgive him for that. You went to him because you don’t have any friends. It must have hurt when he told you he didn’t want to be friends with you. Did he say it’s because he already has a friend?”

Tobias stopped in front of a tub of liquid and turned back to face Will. He looked angry, and he was looking at everything in the basement, trying to pick out something he could use as a weapon.

“He told me he only needed one friend, and he wanted to earn your trust,” Tobias said, “He said he doesn’t need anyone, but you can understand him. Does that mean you can understand me?”

At the curious tilt of Tobias’ head, Will grimaced. 

“Yeah, I can understand you,” Will said, keeping his gun level and his hands steady.

“I could use a friend,” Tobias said, “A friend who can understand. I thought Doctor Lecter was my only option, but I can see you are even better. I can see we have some similar interests.”

Will shook his head with a slight huff.

“You tried to kill me,” he stated bluntly.

Tobias’ frown deepened and he put his hands in his pockets as if he were having a casual conversation, though his eyes never left Will.

“And Doctor Lecter never has? Don’t you think he will? If you ever betray him, I don’t think he is overly forgiving of a man.”

Will smiled.

“Betrayal and forgiveness are akin to expressions of love,” he replied, “He decided a long time ago that he will never kill me, and if I forgive him, then I’m forgiving him his trespass. He already forgave mine, past and future. The question I want to ask you, is if there is any way to trace you back to him.”

Tobias shook his head.

“I would never have put us both in danger like that,” he scoffed.

Will nodded in thanks and lowered his gun. Tobias closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He began to turn away, reaching for something to his left.

“I am terribly sorry for what I am about-”

His words were cut off by the blow Will landed to the back of his head with the butt of his gun. He crumpled to the floor, and Will was left standing over him, tutting.

“I don’t want to be your friend either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing, and then the story started wrapping up, and I panicked. I had no idea it was going to end so soon, or the way it does, but next chapter is the last. I don't know how this is a surprise to me, since I have been writing this for forever, but it is. This surpassed the qualifications for novel length a while ago, but I still feel like I am losing a part of my soul with the end of this story. I hope I don't disappoint any of you with the ending.


	44. Kintsuji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last hurrah for this fic. I hope you have all enjoyed it, and I hope you are happy with how it concludes. These are my boys, and I feel like I am sending them out into the world to fend for themselves.

Hannibal could smell blood when he walked into his office, but there was no obvious source. Once he walked up to his desk he saw it, and he almost tripped in surprise.

One of his drawings of Will had been moved to the top of the stack. The one where Will was spattered in blood, that Hannibal had finished while Will was away helping the lost boys. He had only kept it in the stack of papers so he might look at it during the time Will would not talk to him. It had given him reassurance to think of when he had seen the beast and helped it grow.

There were red spatters in earnest over the image, now, though Hannibal knew the blood would not be that of Garrette Jacob Hobbs as was depicted. In the center, also smeared in blood was the thing that Hannibal had not expected to see, but made his breath catch.

The fish.

Hannibal picked up the key chain, not minding the drying blood that covered his fingers. A grin split his face and he wondered whose blood it was, though he had an inclination.

Hannibal kept the trinket in his hand as he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed the only person he wanted to talk to.

“I’ll call you back,” Will said, ending the call before Hannibal had a chance to say anything.

Hannibal rubbed his fingers over the familiar shape of the fish as he waited, smiling to himself. He would have to wash it as well as dispose of the drawing, but it was a small sacrifice to pay for Will.

Hannibal was by no means an impatient man, but he found himself pacing in anticipation. Will was the only person he could not predict, and the only one who could make him want in such a way.

Will had to understand. He knew what Hannibal had been saying with the death of Matthew. He had to be saying what Hannibal thought he was. He trusted Hannibal again, he knew, but what more?

The door of the office opened and Hannibal turned to see Will enter, closing the door behind him quietly.

“Will,” Hannibal said. 

His usual eloquence seemed inadequate when in the face of Will, now. It felt like it had been an eternity since he had been able to stand face to face with Will, and see him, and hear his voice. 

Will smiled, walking slowly toward Hannibal. Hannibal still could not tell what Will would do, and his pulse quickened at just the sight of him.

“Thanks for the tip,” Will said.

Hannibal nodded, swallowing.

“I could have brought a full team to that little shop, but it seemed so much more appropriate to talk to him one on one.”

The idea of Will going into that man’s store and talking to him alone made Hannibal wish so desperately he had been there to see it and to protect Will from the man. By the look in Will’s eye, Hannibal knew he had not needed to be protected.

“He tried to kill me,” Will said.

Hannibal inhaled sharply, knowing Will would notice, but hating the thought of that man laying a finger on Will.

Will smiled and stepped closer.

“Then, he asked to be my friend,” Will said.

Hannibal frowned.

“He certainly is not one for loyalty,” Hannibal noted.

Will laughed.

“Loyal to whom?” he asked, “You rejected him. I was good enough for you, why not him?”

Hannibal was at a loss. He stared at Will, unable to think clearly for his nearness after so long without.

“I killed him,” Will stated, “For you. I guess I’m just as possessive as you are.”

Hannibal couldn’t stop himself from what he did next. He closed the distance between them and pulled Will into a rough kiss. It was nothing like he had planned and hoped for the moment to be like, but Will smiled into it and pulled him closer with hands clutching at his suit.

Hannibal pulled away, feeling as if he might be dreaming.

“You don’t know how long I have wished to do that,” He said softly, panting slightly from his nervous excitement.

Will grinned up at him. His eyes shining brilliantly and dangerously. He pulled Hannibal closer by his clutch at the suit, and Hannibal let him do what he would.

“Yes I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good luck, boys.


End file.
